Sunburst Radiance
by Hathowda Jun
Summary: A time travel fanfic. Has been rebooted, with no technology. In a world where magic is best controlled and society is always expecting, can there exist something beyond individual comprehension and more importantly, can it be even real? Does responsibility really exist or...is it a manipulable illusion? COMPLETED.
1. Minigun

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle

A/N: This is basically rewrite of my original story. You might find that many things have changed but the essence of my story hasn't. Sunburst Radiance puzzled me for so long – it turned into a kind of hiatus. But here I am, posting the completed story. The amount of chapters may be few, but the story has been condensed into a denser line and increased pace. And pardon my English. This is an Eragon Time Travel fiction and there is no more technological prowess in Eragon's repertoire, because I deemed it unnecessary among the line of events. This is a complete reboot.

Warning: There is some content in this fiction that requires some maturity to understand, the kind that comes with a bit of age and hence this fic is rated M - and not because I have some intimate sex scene or too much violence (there is almost none of that in here). But strict things considered, it is 'not entirely kid stuff'.

….

"What's going on?" Eragon asked the He-She-It-Thing that had come that day without the help of the elven women.

"We have waited long enough. No new Dragon Riders have come. We shall end the pact of the Dragon Riders now."

"Hey wait, I thought we agreed to give it more time!"

"Even during the driest years of the Order before Galbatorix's betrayal at least one Dragon Rider would come every century. Many have passed and none have come. The bond is already weak. You are the only Dragon Rider alive. The pact is null and void already. We are just finalizing it. You have been honourable and we shall be kind. But understand that this is the end."

Eragon didn't get another moment to argue. The bond between him and Saphira was ripped apart. The gap in his mind which Saphira previously occupied healed under the guidance of the Dragons and poof, he was whole but alone. The worst part was the realization that dawned on him – that he and Saphira couldn't be together anymore. There was no dependency, no connection, none of the previous intimacy and understanding. Eragon looked at Saphira – the one and only ex-bonded Dragon alive. A few wild dragons had managed to hatch, but that was it. The rest had rotten or were in unknown hands.

The He-She-It-Thing disappeared. Eragon lost his ability to do magic the moment the bond broke. He hadn't received the gift by training or effort but by the bond, though he had developed and used it well. And Eragon looked at Saphira – he faintly and distantly realized that she too was feeling this – who had become an alien to him. There was none of the horror or the void they had imagined in this separation. The Dragon magic had worked efficiently, healing their separation up before they even knew it.

 _Understand that this is the end_ they had said.

Eragon turned away from them, not knowing what to do. The alive Dragons were instructed by the Eldunari to take them away to somewhere else. Over the days, the Eldunari were evacuated to who knew where. He didn't see Saphira again either. It became appallingly clear that he wasn't connected to Dragons anymore. They were aliens to each other now. It was strange; he had assumed that bonding was physical, mental and emotional. The Dragons no more found use for the chains that bound them to mortals. It wasn't that they weren't kind. Many Eldunari consoled him, but the distance…was something new to him. Just a spell by some overgrown lizards and everything was over.

Eragon didn't leave his partly built city. He had planned it. He had built most of it and had hoped that it would be filled y more people like him. He had left most interiors unadorned so that the inhabitants could customize it themselves – in a graduating ceremony, perhaps. Yeah that meant only his quarters were furnished. And a guest house for the occasionally visiting elf. Most of his guard had left when all the Dragon eggs that would hatch had hatched. They, unlike Eragon seemed to know that there was no connection to the aliens that were the Dragons. They treated them with high respect, but they seemed to know of the distance and had worked around it for centuries now. Eragon now understood why there had been a war between the Dragons and the Elves. They were too different. Even as a human he could plainly see it.

Over the years, his body returned to ordinary human. Eragon, when he found the will to look at mirror, was surprised to see many parts of Brom's face staring back at him. Eragon didn't have problem for food anymore – he had made contingency plans in case of emergencies for the city and now they were purely used for his survival. They would serve him well till his approaching death.

Eragon was so curious about his death. It had never been a looming danger since he'd learned about his partial immortality. Now it was an overhanging mountain, like the one on Uru'baen. Illiera again now, wasn't it? It also occurred to Eragon that he had most probably been forgotten by now. He guessed that he had maybe two decades left to live. He wanted to see his home – Algaesia. Maybe even his father's tomb. Some golden lilies too if he could. He had heard that many problems had cropped up in Algaesia since his time.

Eragon didn't go back, in any case. On the day he had planned to depart, he had found something that had blown his mind away. It was such a simple thing, a small thing and very unremarkable on first, second and third glance. It shouldn't have held the importance he saw in it. Eragon had woken up late that day.

It was a question of work and rest. Till now he had been burdened by so many fucking duties. What was he doing, setting up another task for himself which involved so much trouble? Was he a submissive masochistic self-slave who always went to work?

It was appallingly clear what was being done to him. He had some reason till now, _maybe._ Seeing as his five centuries had become a total waste, _maybe_ the couple of years spent defeating Galbatorix was all that he'd ever accomplished. Maybe because Galbatorix's rule could've been better, from the reports he heard from Algaesia occasionally. Rogue magicians, unheedful use of wordless magic and wars and all such. Even a couple of Shades and Ra'zac.

Eragon figured, _what the hell. I'll just lay back here, just here and do nothing._

It soon turned out that everything had been slavery so far. He had been forced to eat regularly and sleep regularly because he had been 'busy'. He found new levels of rest and relaxation. The best thing was, there was no end to it. An occasional pee and shitting and bathing, yes. Some eating, some sleeping. The only other thing he did was sit or lie down.

Over time, his body couldn't take it. The sudden inactivity was too much for his body. He died.

That was what Eragon knew. The truth was Eragon was dabbling in something so ancient and unknown that he was jumping into a sea at storm. Sitting simply, as it turned out, meant much more in the realm of magic…

…..

Eragon ate breakfast at home and retired to his favourite spot in the Spine looking over the village. He made no fuss about enjoying the scenery but just sat erect there unbothered. When he felt hunger he quickly hunted down a deer with the bow he'd made a few weeks earlier. He didn't skin the deer but put it whole in a sack. He opened his backpack and ate some cooked meat. This had occupied him till sunset and hence he returned home. Garrow grunted at his return.

It had been agreed that Eragon would do only one chore for the family. And he had gotten hunting. That totalled all of his work into three hours a week. Garrow and Roran managed their farm well enough without him.

The next day Eragon went to the same spot but didn't get up to hunt. He simply ate a meagre lunch and returned home at sunset. He had been able to maintain an erect spine for some more time today. Maintaining an erect spine was difficult when sitting for long periods of time.

He started this practice from age 5. Before becoming a four year old he'd done absolutely nothing. In that one tremulous year between 4 and 5 years of age, Eragon had to battle society's nasty expectations. He had rebelled by silence and inactivity till this compromise was reached after a year. Eventually they gave up the boy for a failure, though they didn't stop belittling him for being a bad boy and branded him to be an unsuccessful individual in the future.

Over the months sitting erect became easy and once the stress on his back was gone, it was much easier to do nothing. It was as if he was doing more nothing than before. His hunger dropped gradually and unexpectedly his need for sleep was reduced. Eragon didn't even notice them at first because they were minuscule.

But as he became a seven year old it was clear that he was wasting time and energy in climbing up and down the Spine. So he combined his newly received waking moments of early day and late night into more inactivity. He spent all of his time in his room staring out of the window now. It made him even idler than before, somehow.

Eragon got up from his posture on the floor only to piss, shit, bathe or eat. It wasn't pleasant to sit all by himself with no work to do for months and years continuously. He didn't consider thoughts as company but as more _work_. Eragon couldn't stop thinking even for a moment generally but there were rare periods every month or so where he would be tired of thinking and miraculously have a reduced number of thoughts.

At age nine he ate two small meals every day. He had taken a liking to the roof of his house for his extended periods of inactivity. It pissed off Garrow a bit that he would climb roofs but not trees for some twigs. Eragon always showed a deaf ear to all 'elders'. His weekly hunt had become a nuisance for him because the deer avoided the areas where he hunted these days. Eragon took alternative routes to track down a few squirrels instead of deer and rabbits. It was not appreciated in the house but Eragon ate so little anyway that he didn't mind.

Till then, everything was boring but Eragon was kinda fine with it. Anything that wasn't slavery was good. It all truly started when he hit the four hour sleep mark (he was so inactive that his body needed to rest only for four hours every day).

Eragon got up from sleep seamlessly into waking mode, his eyes automatically opening. Eragon went outdoors and did his three morning works: piss, shit and bathe. He returned to the house where Garrow and Roran were up, tending to the farm already, doing…something Eragon didn't remember or care about remembering anymore. Eragon leisurely went to what passed as their storage room and brought out the preserved lizard meat. He placed a leaf on their table – which passed as tablecloth cum plate in this village – and began eating. It had been an hour and a half since he'd got up. Eragon went to the back of the house and climbed his usual route up to the roof. He found his shaded clean flat spot and sat down there. He was calm and collected.

He just sat there for some time. At a time he guessed was probably noon he suddenly had this impulse. Till now, all the improvements that had come in his abstaining from work were normal and not really that exciting – less sleep, less hunger, a sporadic reduction in thought, a body that could remain still, etc. That day, however he experienced something on a whole new level. It wasn't as much of an impulse as an automatic change. His muscles relaxed considerably, as if he had been holding them tense till now. It started as a wave of relaxation from his feet that travelled towards his skull. As soon as his brain was hit, he had this sensation of his head being blown off his shoulders as he descended rapidly into a bottomless pit. He supposed it was some kind of trance but this was so not a trance as much as an improved chance to get idler. He was conscious of the various background thoughts that he'd been previously unaware of. He was able to see many more body movements that he'd been unable to see before. An upgrade of a kind, really. An upgrade to do what he wanted to do better.

But that feeling faded over several minutes. His body was too used to the minuscule but needless movements and he relapsed, coming back to normal. Eragon shrugged mentally. This changed nothing. He had given up work because it required sacrificing things that he wasn't willing to sacrifice. It wasn't some sort of _psychological_ or _mental_ or _philosophical_ peace that Eragon sought but actual, REAL peace. The kind that meant no war or arguments or whatever. Peace at all levels. Granted he knew nothing about it except that if he _worked,_ peace would never be possible. So he just sat there anyway as normal.

Eragon was surprised when the experience recurred again that week. It became a common phenomenon pretty quick. Over months, he was drawn deeper and deeper into this upgraded idleness. At age 10 the experience occurred almost every day for about half an hour. Eragon could feel himself somehow comparing his previous and current idleness levels and clearly come to the conclusion that he was indeed improving at becoming idle. He didn't know how but his current normal sittings were 'idler' than his previous sittings not just during those half-hours but all the time he sat simply.

His daily scolding dosage from Garrow also decreased as he moved out of the 'beatable' age. His need for sleep also being smaller than before he settled comfortably over another year into an exponential growth in the idleness department. He was able to descend into the trance on will and with some more training was able to do it even when doing his other works. All his time gradually sank into the time of a trance. The distinction between sleep and waking moments also grew hazy, leading to his waking hours becoming more restful and the sleeping hours turning into a deeper level of the same trance, except more wakefully and that made his sleep quite exciting to experience somehow. He was vaguely aware of the things happening in his mind during sleep. It was interesting.

But it didn't not stop there. When he was thirteen he was basically in the state permanently and was beginning to experience sporadic bursts of a significantly deeper state of idleness. He was much more idle than before. He curiously noted that his weekly hunting trips became extremely short because his aim never missed now. His mind had so little to do that when it did do slave labour, it was with the caution and handling it took up when dealing with an explosive. And with a ridiculous level of concentration. Maybe his hunts fared well because Garrow had grudgingly given him a good bow for his efforts for his thirteenth birthday. They hadn't starved this time around under Eragon's hunting. It was at least squirrels and lizards if not deer and rabbits.

He was half a year past his fourteenth birthday when in a flash his mind opened up. His bursts of greater idleness had only recently become regular. But that day, he felt a much more powerful burst of idleness that he suspected his head really had blown off his shoulders. He was quite sure that his heart had given up its task from the exertion. It was like a snap and suddenly Eragon seemed dead again.

Only, he wasn't fully dead. Technically, he was dead – there was no pulse, no breath or even any kind of brain activity. Subjectively, he felt no different than a perhaps strong trance. At that moment, the world opened up. It was full of colours, sounds and all the possible sensations but wasn't his own world. Because he wasn't doing particularly anything, Eragon didn't notice much but he somehow quickly realized what this place was: the mental world. That world of 'lights' he'd analogized every time he used the mind arts or when meditating – it turned out that he'd missed so much detail. It was as if he had put blinders on so that he saw only black and white before and blocked all the other sensations while now, he had removed them. The mindscapes he'd seen before and dealt with were just tips of icebergs. He was now underwater, seeing icebergs from below the surface.

What was more surprising was that he was unable to come back fully from the new state of doing nothing. He was unable to close his mind off like before – it was work. Eragon curiously saw the new world once he realized what he was looking at. It was interesting o note all the different sensations other than just other people's energies. He saw through all minds near him, like seeing ice in water.

Eragon finally opened his eyes. His heartbeat had resumed at some point and he breathed a slow rhythm. But it was clear that he had permanently evolved into an idler being. He whiled away more time, getting his bearing. He had got some sort of permanent spike in his ability to remain calm and do nothing. He could move if he wanted to, but otherwise he might as well be dead corpse.

Eragon elatedly realized he was finally _free._ It was much clear now – he had been a _self-_ slave, meaning that freedom had always remained in his hands. Eragon's whole body underwent a wave of relaxation again from the realization and what was amazing was that it didn't come back from the rest.

Eragon never found the need to sleep again.

Over the next year, nothing changed because there was nothing to achieve. He was simply in a very idle state 24x7. Eragon nonetheless never picked up any work, though he could do so if he wished to. He just simply sat there in his room. Now that he could afford moving around, he usually went to sit in different parts every day. He never slept anymore, so he just aimlessly walked here and there.

He supposed he was close to reaching the fifteen year mark when magic became available to him without preamble. He was doing his thing in the forest when magic had smoothly come to him and allowed him to walk in the air. It was strange to Eragon, who had branded all magic and spells into the category of 'work'.

He didn't dwell on magic but continued simply sitting. Just as unreasonably his magic had come it grew. He trained nothing, he didn't do Ringmar or orce himself to meditate and even speak words. He couldn't close his mind off to the world however but that hardly counted as magical training. There were several people who could defend their minds but couldn't cast magic. Eragon had no explanation of what was happening to him and frankly, he didn't bother. However, even more astonishingly, answers came to him without him grabbing or searching for them. They just popped into his thoughts.

He grew familiar with the sudden insights and learned not to get distracted by them from whiling away his time. He just accepted them as a part of his free life. Eragon was cloud watching when an egg appeared before him silently. Apparently, the dragons at a place he shouldn't mention out aloud or risk losing some information had more tact this time and had decided not to damage his roof. Eragon had not realized it was already _the_ time.

A sudden notification came to Eragon – one of those unsourced insights – that he wouldn't be affected by memory magic because a) his memories weren't stored as thoughts in his brain but as impressions in his soul and b) because his magic automatically prevented such magic from accessing him which was basically because he was too idle for such magic to have any more effects on him.

Not really bothered, he resumed cloud watching. The egg disappeared and landed on his bed. Eragon did not even need to will it to happen. They just happened as if on their own but Eragon knew that they were operating off him – an earlier notification had told him so – but at deeper levels than what he could sense currently. And he wasn't interested in descending any deeper than he already was. The truth was that he literally couldn't do anything about it. Maybe it would occur or it wouldn't.

Eragon got up from his spot on the roof and swung himself into his bedroom. He looked at Saphira's egg and noticed that it was glowing warmly – he was nourishing it with his magic. This magic was so different from what Brom and Oromis had taught him. The only reason why he named his new ability magic was because it did inexplicable things. Otherwise, there was nothing common between them. There was no barrier to take down, no words or thoughts to decide upon and no energy release. He didn't know what exactly his new magic was but it was just one thing; not a multitude of procedures.

Eragon went downstairs to find Garrow and Roran eating lunch. They looked up surprised at Eragon. He never came down to lunch. Not since age seven or eight, it was hard to remember.

"A blue stone appeared in front of me. It is now in my bedroom" Eragon said. Eragon had also gained something he'd never even dreamed of possessing: graceful movement. His movements were smooth, much like his elf-hybrid body. As far as he knew, he didn't have the strength or speed, however.

Eragon's voice was…like a musical instrument. Not that it was melodious or something but that it was absolutely controlled, as if adjusting his teeth would lead to a difference in pitch. His voice was smooth, in some way Garrow couldn't put a finger on. He'd heard that kind of voice only when expert, long time singers talked. And they matched nothing with Eragon's right now.

"You alright, son? It must be some sort of sorcery. I hope it didn't affect you?" Garrow replied to the remarkable occasion of Eragon actually talking.

Eragon gently shook his head, again betraying some sort of ultimate control over his muscles.

"It looks pretty. We'll sell it to the Traders" Ergon supplied, surprising them again because he had talked. Eragon knew full well that whether the events would turn out good or bad, he would start departure by then. He remembered that the merchants wouldn't buy it anyway.

Garrow and Roran agreed. Some more time Eragon whiled away and the Traders came. Eragon came to the village for the first time in years. Others didn't notice him much. The villagers who did sneered at 'the brat who never did chores'. Parents around him told their children moral stories of how lazy people suffered in the end. Bah, as if they even saw 'the end'. They didn't realize that 'the end' was death. Nothing before that would ever stop their course of life.

The merchant visit was quickly and secretly done, with no other villager knowing about it. Eragon suggested to Garrow that he could perhaps sell it himself in a big city. Garrow refused, saying that he needed to hunt for their food. Eragon said that he would stock them up for a few years by capturing some animals alive. Garrow blinked at the proposal and eventually agreed, mostly because he felt that Eragon did indeed need the exposure he sought in the outer world. Perhaps it would cure him of his laziness.

A few weeks later, the Ra'zac came knocking by. Most villagers kept their mouths shut in fear. The Ra'zac could tell between lies and truth because humans were their natural prey, not that the villagers knew that. The Ra'zac were under orders not to engage in needless action unless they found solid clues. While the Emperor didn't care getting his people slaughtered or even the Ra'zac for the matter, he wanted results _fast_. Hence, the Ra'zac had no time to question whether odd settlements existed fifteen miles from the village. Sloan, having no strong recollection of Garrow, Roran or Eragon didn't find the vehemence to give them way. He barely remembered them to even exist. The Ra'zac assumed that the main village was all there was to question, began their journey to the Emperor so that they could report their partial failure. They had run across Brom the other day but being too weak to face him and also afraid, they had left quickly. T least they would have something to report.

Brom and Eragon happened to leave on the same day – two days after the Ra'zac left. Eragon had been aware of Brom's plans. Brom had not been deaf to the rumours of Eragon's departure and had decided to time his departure a day late to go with Eragon.

Eragon had prepared for this a ridiculously long time ago. He hadn't come with the excuse of selling the egg in another city on the spur. He had packed all he would need into pockets of space and cloth bags.

Eragon had never cut his hair himself nor allowed others to touch it since he had come upon magic. His new magic. Earlier, the looming threat of scalp diseases, weight and itching had made him cut his hair and wash it regularly. However once he had magic he was immune to such things and stopped caring about haircuts, nailcuts and baths. All the dirt and microbes and consequentially his odours were repelled from his body without his effort.

Brom had talked to Garrow and they agreed that Brom could act as Eragon's guardian in his trip. Eragon had captured enough food alive for that year during those two days – basically, it was just two deer herds measuring a total of 50 deer, enough for two people to eat for at least an year, Eragon thought but didn't actually check. He knew that Roran was going to Therinsford to impress Katrina anyway. Roran would probably take the animals and Garrow with him there while he worked himself funds to hold a household.

Eragon waited for Brom in the entrance to Carvahall. His hair fell to his shoulders, framing the background of his face, but no one would be seeing it because he wore a full dull-white hood made of some nice material his magic had conjured up out of some forest ingredients. The white hood was a part of a dull white robe. Eragon wore brown gloves and knee high boots. All of it had been made by magic. Eragon suspected that it dynamically evolved to suit the terrain and situation he was in. This magic never left his clothing.

Currently they were heavy but airy allowing him to enjoy the breeze on his skin even inside his robes and yet feel warm.

Brom arrived soon and took notice of Saphira's egg. Brom greeted him and immediately asked "Have you packed clean underwear, boy? You don't know how much it matters in journeys such as these."

"I don't wear underwear" replied Eragon, startling Brom. Brom wasn't going to tease Eragon about it but it left him a bit miffed. He decided to work on that later. The boy had bigger problems.

His boots being all cushiony in the inside, Eragon enjoyed the walk to Therinsford. Being permanently graceful and relaxed was a definite advantage to enjoy things. They reached Therinsford on the next day. Eragon didn't pay attention to the bridge thief physically but interestedly noted the first new mind in his mental field. He had grown bored with reading the same minds over and over. There was a lot of information to take in but he had had a year with Carvahall and understood all the people to a certain degree. Even Brom. The traditional single-thought-shield didn't work on Eragon anymore. He simply slipped under them without them ever noticing. Everyone was game and an open book to Eragon.

…..

"Two hundred Crowns" the owner said, confident that it was too steep a price for them to pay. Brom paid the amount and left with Snowfire and also bought Eragon Cadoc. Eragon recognized the horse. He wondered what had happened to this horse. He remembered riding Snowfire when Murtagh rode on Tornac in their mad dash to rescue Arya. Cadoc must have been sold or left free to roam _or_ he'd died.

Saphira hatched when Brom and Eragon were in the middle of nowhere, which happened to be in the plains. Brom made a big show or surprise as she hatched. Eragon got his hand fried and cooled again, leaving a silvery oval on his palm. His left one this time, on his careful insistence. Saphira had hatched this late because he had used magic on her egg. His extra nourishment had made her hatch a bit later because she had to absorb many things before birth.

"This is ground-breaking, young man." Brom commented with amazement in his voice and something Eragon matched with awe – an act, no doubt – "You have been chosen by a new Dragon as the first new Dragon Rider! I can help you much, I know a lot of legends, stories and facts to help you along. But as I said earlier, do not question me how I know them. That I will keep to myself"

Eragon just accepted it blandly. _So much drama for him wanting to control me. The tuatha du ortihrim._ Eragon guessed _will try to be as painful as before._

Brom continued after supper that day "Do you realize that going back means putting your family and the village in danger?"

"Yes. It will not do well to go back" Eragon said.

Brom nodded and lit his pipe. He had been expecting some resistance. He was glad that Eragon wasn't the un-understanding snot the other villagers portrayed him to be. Otherwise, he was just a little withdrawn.

 _Nothing bad there, I suppose_ thought Brom, while figuring out how to train Eragon in all the ways. It took years and months! He would need to skip all the fluff and do only the skeletal concepts. _Not too fast a pace, not too slow either. I will keep something going till he shows some sign he is ready for the next. This will mean skipping topics as soon as he shows aptitude for a new aspect of his training…_ Brom plotted.

The next morning Brom woke up a bit earlier only to find Eragon sitting fully awake He had never noticed that before. Was Eragon an early riser? Sure, he always was up and about before Brom but he just assumed that Eragon got up a few minutes before him. However, today he had risen much earlier. Mistaking his waking for something he assumed again, Brom said "Do not unnecessarily worry yourself with the burden you carry boy. Know that it's precious enough that you know it to be a burden. Or else it would be a sorrowful tragedy of your life. Another story for Brom the story teller to make money out of, nothing else"

Brom was unnerved by the lack of reaction on his face.

 _Is he a psychopath or something?_ Brom suspected. He couldn't for sure without a few spells but spending more time with Eragon would prove just as effective. He was trained to recognize sociopaths and psychopaths, after all. It came with the job of being a keeper of peace and justice.

After Brom finished his morning routine, he found Eragon sitting by his young mate. They tried to figure out her name and Brom was struck at heart when he learned that she was also Saphira.

"Dragons come with names when they are born" Brom explained "The names just pop into their Rider's heads over the days" earning a look from Eragon. He seemed genuinely interested in it. "Pity no one knows how or why" Brom said, not happy about disappointing his son but not very unhappy either. Eragon looked away.

 _So he doesn't_ not _have emotions. It rules out mental illnesses._

Brom was forced to conclude that Eragon was just not fond of using facial expressions and social interactions to convey emotions. It was something like his refusal to wear underwear – not accepted, but not really a pressing issue in the face of Galbatorix.

 _Eragon isn't a psychopath or a sociopath._ Brom concluded with relief.

"Anyway, we have some training to do. I am not certainly an expert but I do have experience with swords. You'll need to learn swordsmanship to defend yourself" Brom said.

Eragon caught the stick Brom threw at him.

And it was a clean match. Brom was beaten soundly – he was no match for Eragon, though he was new to this.

 _Swords no longer suit me_ Eragon realized as he was not unmarked from their first fight. He should've been invincible with his experience and tactics. But swords were unneeded work. All that creativity and effort went down the drain into slavery-gutter in the way of the sword.

His clothes were a bit lighter now to suit the plains but were waterproof to counter the rain. He was also warm inside. Saphira began talking in a few weeks. Weeks in which Brom tried to take up all of Eragon's time by his 'training'.

It was sticks and then makeshift swords and then real swords. Yazuac came and went by with Eragon dully casting a fire arrows at the poor Urgals. Poor because they had no money on them. Seriously, what the hell had they looted?

"I cast fire from my arrows on two rogue Urgals who attacked me" Eragon said in a monotone voice.

"That's…unexpected. You should be proud; few escape unscathed from slaying their first Urgal. But the manner in which you did it was very dangerous. You could have destroyed yourself and the whole town."

Brom stamped his teeth vigorously on the pipe stem, waiting for a reply from Eragon. "You didn't have any idea what you were doing. You shouldn't be taught this, much less use. It's very complex, you see. The practice is more of an art than anything else. What you did was extremely difficult"

The speech elicited no reaction from Eragon. Brom hesitantly continued his speech "You should be a bit more vigilant and attentive in your approach towards this subject. Your case is exceptional. You don't have a choice but to learn magic. Usually, Riders kept this ability secret and trained young Riders in magic only after several years of other training. In your case, you must learn it, considering that Galbatorix and really everyone else is a big threat."

 _I could have used any reaction from Eragon and trick him into getting the right attitude…but he's not responding. I can't manipulate him into the necessary mindset_ Brom thought.

Eragon _nodded_ , much to Brom's agitation. _What kind of introvert is he?_ Thought Brom.

After refilling their waterskins from the parts of the nearby river which didn't seem bloody Eragon heard Saphira say something.

 _Fuck_ she said, thrusting some emotions of vulgarity and pissed-off-ness.

Eragon's mind didn't reply. He duly told Brom, "Saphira knows swear words"

Brom blinked. That she talked this soon after birth was normal, but swear words, seriously?

 _I know that each bond between Rider and Dragon in unique and each influence the other. I can't see how Eragon could make a Dragon behave like that. Ah hell, training Eragon will be_ hard _enough. Saphira can hopefully learn to defend herself. However if she turns out as lazy as him…_ Brom gulped, remembering all the Dragon training lessons. To become a full member of the Order, Riders and the Dragons had to learn both Dragon tutorials and Rider tutorials, so as not to compensate training when one or the other was unavailable. It wasn't a big deal – training was training, no matter what race, especially for well-rounded Riders. But to Brom, who might have to train Saphira – it would be a big headache if she didn't exhibit the necessary competency.

"Tell her to mind her language" Brom answered pleasantly "Dragons have a dignity to hold up to so she must-"

Eragon interrupted Brom by tilting his head towards Saphira and recited, looking at Brom "You are a motherfucking maniac who can't hold your bullshitting tongue for one hell of a second" stated Eragon monotonously. Saphira did the thing that passed for laughing among Dragons.

Bro sighed _The Void take me. Rebels._

They eventually reached Daret and the same incident happened. Eragon scoured tons of information from the Daret soldiers and even some villagers behind the walls. He saw patterns common to human minds and figured out information a lot more quickly than before. It wasn't something he did actively but something that happened passively, like his magic.

He did something he himself didn't expect to do: he planted thoughts in their mind to pick up and run out of Algaesia through the desert. Again, it was automatic and experiemental, as if someone else was doing it for him. Eragon was surprised how quickly his planted thought reached the foremind of the soldiers, leaving them as if they themselves had thought that up. Eragon immediately knew that he could be controlled similarly, by someone who had a better grasp at this mental thing.

Eragon tried Planting some thoughts of calming down and relaxing the training regime in Brom, but they never surfaced into Brom's above-surface mind, remaining just a murky thought in his mind's depths. Eragon learnt that the thought could surface only if it was at need. It lead him to wonder what the function of the mind was, if just any thought could simply pop up but only a few were selected to the fore. It was as if the mind was nothing but a filter and some residue.

"Let's go" Brom said and he followed that with a lecture to Eragon about how to sense, defend and attack mentally, all of which of course Eragon tuned out, lest they infect him and his higher understanding.

Whiling away more time, they didn't come across any special Seithr Oil bottle so Brom had no excuse to continue the journey.

Brom asked Eragon one day when Brom was as near as Uru'baen as he was willing to get, several hundred leagues from the city.

"Eragon, I wished to keep you free of the burden of being a Rider but what I will tell you now will come to bite your back later if not now. You are about to be caught in the middle of an ongoing war, purely because Saphira hatched for you, the first of the new Dragon Rider order.

Control over you will mean controlling the new generation of Riders. You can either join the Emperor" Brom made it as modest as possible. He really could choose that side, there was nothing wrong with it except that Algaesia would be doomed to slavery. Brom shivered mentally at the thought but made sure that no choice was posed condescendingly or appraised and continued "Or, the Varden. Either way, it's your choice but you can't evade them forever. Till then, you are safe for no side knows whose your allegiance is to."

"Describe each side" Eragon asked, again not interested in the reply but eager to get Brom going. This _plan_ had begun forming in his mind without him even willing it to happen. Something that had accelerated since the time he had met the Daret soldiers.

"Well," Brom paused, calculating what to say. It was rare that Eragon showed any interest. It was best to capitalize on it "you know the story of Galbatorix from my stories back in Carvahall. To say about his rule, it mostly involves having harsh laws to keep the majority in check while dispatching Special Forces to deal with other threats. The Emperor himself sits and does nothing about this stuff. Rumours say that he is locked up in some kind of research, no doubt to discover something that would torcher us all in one shot, but those rumours are only natural, considering the nastiness of our ruler."

"Sounds nice to sit and do nothing" Eragon noted aloud.

Brom chose to ignore that and said "The Varden is more of a band of humans trying to resist his rule. It consists of rebels who have escaped from King Galbatorix's control. No one knows where the Varden is, but it is said that there are spies everywhere and one can join them if they are cautious enough. Their administration is also vague, since they are focused mainly on military and espionage."

Eragon asked, "So they are more or less, a probable military rule?"

Brom was surprised at his thought but said yes.

Eragon sat there for a few minutes calmly, giving Brom the impression that he was thinking but we know very well what Eragon was doing – just whittling away some more time wood.

"I'll run around Algaesia and collect more information for the side I'll choose based on the info"

Brom agreed, deciding it was the best course of action. He had done his part as father in this matter. It was time to switch to being a member of the Varden. As much as he wished his son free will he didn't want to face his own son in war. He would try his best from now on to subtly make Eragon choose the Varden, which at worst was the lesser of the two evils.

Brom was not ready for the next statement from Eragon, who said "Then it's time we part. I have no doubt that you, being as informed as you are, are a part of one faction or the other. I do not want to be influenced in anyway. Any cause for concern is well received but I shall continue on my own from now on. Thank you for…whatever you've done. Goodbye"

Eragon mounted on his horse, which had been suspiciously packed and he was ready to leave, leaving Brom sputtering. We should duly note that Eragon could read Brom's mind openly and had chosen the best possible words for his agenda.

"Fine. I shall tell you this: I am affiliated to the Varden, not Galbatorix by any chance. You know who to go to if you wish to join the Varden" and Brom wished to tell him his one secret that he owed to Eragon but decided that he couldn't bear it if Eragon were to go over to the Emperor. It was best in that situation that Eragon and Brom died as enemies, not as known family members. Brom would reward Eragon with the information if he joined the Varden willingly, Brom decided.

Brom said "Beware, if the Emperor catches you, it's game over. You won't have any choice. He'll learn your Name, which is the word in the Ancient Language I've taught you that describes you and grants power over you to those who know it. And then he'll make you his slave. I hope you'll evade capture. I have not trained you in all I wished to train you but it will have to suffice. You have been a quick learner."

Indeed, they had finished learning what Brom and he had covered last Time around within this period.

"And never, ever, ever lose your Dragon" Brom said softly before he began packing. His eye caught something and presented Zar'roc to Eragon.

"I've learnt that you don't prefer swords, but this will not tarnish or dull, so it's bound to be useful" Brom said and bid him farewell.

 _So long sucker_ Saphira said to Brom directly.

Brom had cunningly placed a small tracker on Eragon before he'd left. Eragon had noticed it and kept it so that he could manipulate Brom in the future. Brom suspected something like that would happen if by accident if not vigilance and hence placed another spell on Eragon to alert him to such incidents. Eragon wished the same of that spell and all the others that Brom had managed to do in the short window of time.

Brom then headed west, knowing that he would need Jeod's hep to get to the Varden. He had heard that the Emperor had increased the border patrol ten times that of the previous size.

Eragon's robes grew heavy and picked up a certain thick dullness to them. Between layers of the cloth, there was some special liquid that froze into a very hard substance on pressure. Much like a non-Newtonian liquid of our world. His robe had changed into ideal armour, stopping any attack without fuss and caused him no damage as the robe itself would take all the vibrations without passing them onto him. He didn't even bother with unsheathing Zar'roc. He deposited into a Pocket dimension, along with his other supplies.


	2. Rocket Launcher

Eragon had pulled him aside the morning he left, saying only these words:

 _Expose and kill Sloan before the month ends. He's a spy._

Roran didn't know what to make of it but kept his mouth shut. It wasn't as if Eragon was going to be here to constantly nag him about it. But it set a grim tone to their separation. He had a funny feeling that he wasn't going to see Eragon again.

…

As soon he was out of Brom's sight he manipulated the weak trackers on him to what he liked them to see – heading north towards Ceunon. Eragon's magic rolled off in waves, permeating his horse Cadoc and off he sped with Saphira following from above, only slightly behind him. The horse went at double its speed and he eventually reached the vicinity of a village. Slowing down to normal speed, he took a path through the village that brought him maximum minds into range. Eragon focused only on enjoying his ride on his now cushiony saddle. Since all the information was received automatically, he sped out of the settlement within minutes, already knowing where next to go.

…

It had been some time since he'd escaped Uru'baen, the Emperor's capital. He and Tornac had to study so many patrol routes and the city layouts to escape carefully. Yet, wind of their pans had reached the Emperor. It was as if he had been listening into their conversations or something. Not surprising, but they had hardly planned things in the palace. It was hard to imagine spies within the safe house they'd used to plan their escape.

Tornac had ended up giving his life, but Murtagh wasn't going to regret it. He had sacrificed himself so that he could be free. He wasn't going to brood over it, though he did mourn him. He had built an honorary grave and named his horse Tornac.

He visited a few villages next, stocked up on supplies and just enjoyed freedom while the temporary boost in emotions lasted. He knew that freedom would just seem normal after some time and he planned to capitalize on what he had. He still hadn't decided what to do with his life either.

On one of his visits to a village much east of Uru'baen, he realized that he had almost run out of funds and would need to find a source of income. He had packed enough for some time more, but it high time he found at least some form of income. He wanted to rent a room but all were occupied so he had to share. He decided that it wouldn't do more harm to his purse and agreed with the innkeeper to lead him into the room.

There sat a man enshrouded in dull white robes from head to toe. Maybe his boots were a different colour but they weren't visible through the floor-touching robes. His gloves were noticeable brown too. He wore a shining crested metallic belt at his waist but there was no other ornament. The hood revealed something resembling a thin beard and some lips only.

Murtagh knew better than to talk with shady strangers and deposited his meagre possessions on his bed and confirmed his now halved rent with the innkeeper and paid some in advance. He warily looked at the white stranger – his robes had received some nasty smears and appeared to be creased at several places – who drew some kind of package out of his own belongings.

He dropped the hood, revealing an unkempt but bright face with a hell of some hair on his head. He wasn't sure if it was styled or natural. But Murtagh stood shocked when he saw what he unwrapped – Zar'roc.

"I wish to give you this" Eragon stated, his voice again attracting attention from Murtagh. Eragon himself had not noticed it but other people seemed to think his voice was different. He'd gained some impressions of 'controlled' or 'pure', as in a pure note of music, from Garrow.

"Who are you and how did you get that?" Murtagh asked. It wasn't exactly creative when people said that to mean they wanted to stab him.

Eragon didn't say anything but handed the sword hilt first to Murtagh. Since he didn't pick it up he threw it on Murtagh's bed. He then sat down as if nothing had happened.

Murtagh took the time to quickly come up with a plan in case this broke down to a fight.

Eragon sighed a very long sigh. It took about three minutes to empty his lungs. Murtagh was again made wary. Such lung capacity hardly came without extreme training.

"I got the sword from Brom" said Eragon.

 _The Brom?_ Murtagh thought _My, this is one interesting character. He must be one of the Varden, trying to recruit me. I never thought they would even consider accepting me, strange…_

"I am not one of the Varden" Eragon said, jumping Murtagh out of his thoughts.

"How did you do that?" sapped Murtagh, checking his mental fortifications. He hadn't sensed an attack.

"I can read it from your face" Eragon said "and my name is Eragon"

"The first Dragon Rider?" Murtagh asked, recognizing the name from Tornac's many lectures on history. Not that it was authorized by Galbatorix.

"Of the new generation" Eragon said, Saphira appearing on the bed behind Eragon. She was just about the size of that bed.

 _A Dragon Rider. Interesting But why did he seek me out?_

"Why come to me? How did you track me?"

"The sword is your birthright, for one. I had to, so I tracked you. Believe it or not, the Emperor is least concerned with your antics"

Murtagh conceded that point. He knew that to be true. He was just a loose end to the Emperor. "Anything else?" Murtagh asked, fully knowing that he could only ask for info at this point.

"Yes, a lot. But I'll tell it to you later. I talked all I want today"

"Hmm" said Murtagh.

Murtagh was still cautious of his purse though. It had dawned today and Murtagh had woken up, to find Eragon still sitting in the same erect way.

"Did you sleep at all?" asked Murtagh, automatically curious.

"I don't need sleep" answered Eragon. His voice contained a warning, as if asking him not to talk anymore.

"Uh…okay…" Murtagh said and grabbed some breakfast. His meal as a free man was composed of stale bread, cheese and soup. Eragon stood by the time he got back into his room. Murtagh had already repacked his possessions the night before, having shopped before coming to the inn. Murtagh was planning to go with this guy, just to see what happened to him. He guessed that life wouldn't be not interesting beside a Dragon Rider. He didn't wish to become a sidekick though. He loved all the sidekicks from his novels but he always happened to cry at the novel-ends for them. He didn't wish to be a sidekick. Only a spectator. Those guys always got off easy.

Murtagh asked, "So where is that Dragon of yours?"

Eragon pointed up with his brown gloved finger. He assumed it meant she had climbed up into the roof and was now in the sky.

"Are you feeling up for rescuing a damned damsel in doomed distress?" asked Eragon.

…

Brom was greeted only by Helen's baleful stare as he knocked on her apartment. He had rode hard on his the poor horse to get here. He was hoping for a nice greeting, not his friend's wife's suspicious glare.

"Tell your husband that Brom is here, please" Brom requested. Why had Jeod married such a bitch?

"Go away" she _ordered._

Brom resorted to his backup plan. He called "JEEEEEOOOOOODDD…"

Jeod immediately pushed his wife aside and hugged Brom once he saw who was outside.

"Why you bugger, I thought you had died!"

"You know what, I didn't! I happen to be alive and you're the only one who doesn't know. I'm sorry for that, but hey, safety first"

"Safety first" Jeod nodded seriously, before sniggering at some inner joke.

Helen turned and whiffed away, not interested in some rude old friend of her dimwit husband.

So Brom and Jeod started planning returning to the Varden. It was impossible for them to get lucky again with egg stealing. Their main problem was to make the wife agree to come to the Varden.

…

Murtagh hung on for dear life as Tornac climbed to speeds he'd never ran at before.

 _It would have been nice if he'd warned me of this before!_ Murtagh felt.

…

"What the hell" Murtagh managed.

Eragon only remained silent. He had just explained the plan clearly enough.

"A Shade. Captured an elf. In a dream. You get captured by the Shade while I rescue you by giving you _this_ bottle of anti-drugging liquid which I'll throw down the chamber you are in through a roadside ventilation grill fixed for your cell. Then we run" Murtagh said, earning admiration from Eragon, who had used only a few more words to describe the plan.

"Brevity" Eragon said, pleased. Needless to say, Murtagh was fuming but since it involved minimal risk from him, he agreed to the crazy plan.

…

"So you're the new Dragon Rider. Honestly I was surprised to see you here and even know that you exist. You've kept a low profile."

Eragon kept silent, which Durza found very nice.

"I'll tell you one thing. Fuck Galbatorix and fuck the Varden. Join me as my apprentice and sacrifice your Dragon to this cause too and I shall let you live and actually flourish. Believe me, there is no peace even if you won from either side. I shall show you _real_ victory. It is in carnage, mindless murdering of sentient life that we shall find fulfilment."

"I know" Eragon said, present only because he was gathering information on the fucker. And this was so enlightening. It was even providing him information about his own transformation.

 _I had no idea that Shades were this powerful_ Eragon thought. _Their magic is on par with my current ability! If not for some stupid blind spots in a Shade's working, everything would've been destroyed when the first Shade appeared!_ Eragon concluded.

Dodging all kinds of magic was pretty easy and intuitive to Shades – like dodging, slow, visible objects. Eragon got the vague impression that it was bad to mess with Shades via magic.

The Shade nodded, satisfied with making her impression on Eragon.

Eragon had noticed that Durza was composed souls which had been female at some point. Though the body was completely male, she wasn't. Durza was a girl.

Murtagh dropped the vial on the agreed time in the night. It turned out that his body had already countered the pathetic drug. Ah well, he had a nice reason to down the sweet concoction – to explain how he was able to cast magic, in case anyone asked.

"I am vexed Eragon. How long do we have before Durza knows?"

"Relax. She already knows"

"What! And _she?_ What the fuck did you two do in the cell…" Murtagh asked Eragon, trailing off as his mind arrived on one probable situation.

"We didn't fuck, thank you. I scanned her mind to know her gender. Arya is inside a pocket dimension" Eragon said. Murtagh had been introduced to pocket dimensions quite early in Galbatorix's training in the other Time, so why not reveal the secrets himself, Eragon had thought this Time.

Murtagh nodded and suddenly paled "What the fuck, wait! You said she already knows?!"

"Yes, scum" Durza said, appearing in front of them.

Murtagh gulped and drew out Zar'roc. Eragon himself was unsure whether he could beat the Shade, Eragon had gathered some serious shit from Durza's mind. It had been a timed and calculated event by Arya which had truly utilized the Shade's blindspot that allowed him to kill Durza back then. Arya must have studied a lot about Shades before accepting her job.

Shades being originally beings of the immaterial now familiarized with the material world, still couldn't know about the finer aspects of a material world due to which some unforeseen consequences were beyond their reasoning abilities.

Eragon tore out the space beneath the shade so that she partially fell into a pocket dimension. Surprise was evident on her face, not knowing what to do.

Murtagh quickly stabbed her through her heart, carefully aiming his blade while she was still paralyzed by the vacuum acting on her lower body.

Eragon captured the souls as they escaped from their host, in another pocket dimension. Eragon saw that Murtagh lived through all of the boy Corsair's memories, the boy who had ended becoming the Shade Durza.

Murtagh saw Eragon holding a red globe of light when he came about. They were in a grove of trees, which he later found to be situated at a place some leagues from Gil'ead. Eragon didn't even look at Murtagh when he said "I've healed you while you slept for twenty four hours. Including that scar on your back"

Murtagh was beginning to get creeped out by Eragon's sensing abilities. He could read minds first – he had not fallen for that I can read your face lie – and then this clean sensing And extraordinary healing now, on top of those. He hadn't heard of such abilities. Murtagh could be wrong, but weren't Dragon Riders supposed to be trained before they became even remotely strong at magic?

"You are one gifted son of a bitch" Murtagh said.

That seemed to remind Eragon something. He started and said "A bitch who is also your mother"

Murtagh could only put his hands in his face. The news didn't surprise him at all. Almost all novels held at least one pair of villain and hero as family. Obviously, Eragon was the villain of insanity here and Murtagh the defending champion of sanity.

"My father was Morzan" Murtagh said, just accepting his statement without even checking it. It didn't matter anyway "So who was yours?"

"Brom. He doesn't know that I know"

"Fucking great, son of a dog." Murtagh commented.

Eragon looked at him calmly and pulled his hood on. He sat up on his horse. Murtagh found his own property tied to Tornac already. He got up from his nice spot on the ground Eragon had most kindly allocated to him despite there being several cloth to provide for bedding. As soon as he got on Tornac, he sped off following Cadoc, again at that ludicrous speed Eragon had assigned their horses.

…

Eragon took out Arya and healed her of her poison. He hadn't allowed himself to be captured for just a damn talk and a snoop at Durza's mind. What was the purpose of a rescue mission if the rescued would die anyway? He had nicked the counter to her poison while in prison.

Eragon advised Murtagh to take up a sagely position like him to show off to Arya. He impressed upon him that Arya was almost hostile and they would best be projecting an aura of calmness.

 _Uh…_

Arya felt herself waking from the trance before she woke up. She felt herself cured, probably for the next dose of poison but what she saw only puzzled her more. Two people with small beards, one dressed in a black shirt and a black pant and the other in white robes sat on a rock, holding a cane and a staff respectively.

Arya flipped backwards in a flurry of speed, surprised at the strength she possessed. Eragon and Murtagh were unable to follow her movement as she held her crackling fingers towards each other. It finally dawned on her that the two had done nothing but stare eerily at her.

"You have half a minute to explain who you are" Arya spat out.

Eragon had praised Murtagh earlier at his brevity and hence, according to plan, it was Murtagh who spoke, not realizing till now that Eragon had not been kidding about Arya being hostile.

"You are freed by us, Eragon" Murtagh said pointing at Eragon and "and me, Murtagh. And Saphira over there" Murtagh said, pointing at Saphira.

Arya didn't lower her guard but only stepped back.

Eragon took the turn to talk "Murtagh and I killed Durza to free you, because I saw you captured by Durza in a vision"

"Oh-ho?" Arya said to them, before turning immediately and bowing before the Dragon and murmuring something to her.

She finally lowered her hands.

Saphira had exponentially grown since Gil'lead but still wasn't large enough to fly on continuously for hours but he knew that Arya could keep up on foot easily enough. Murtagh had some trouble believing Eragon that she could keep up till she did, when Murtagh, Eragon and Saphira set off without warning towards the South.

…

"Who are you people?" Arya asked when they camped.

Eragon didn't answer. He hadn't removed his hood since he'd posed beside Murtagh.

Murtagh said "Since Eragon clearly isn't the mood for talking, I'll answer that. I…am no one and he is…well, I don't know. People looking for fun, I would say at best."

Arya scowled. Apparently, they had just been doing that to rescue a 'damsel in distress'.

 _A damned damsel in doomed distress_ Saphira corrected Arya. She hadn't realized that Saphira was still connected to her mentally.

"So…? Who is the young Dragon's Rider?" Arya asked, expectant.

"I" Eragon said.

 _Motherfuckin' you hell yeah_ Saphira corrected again.

Arya tried not to blow her fuse. An enigma and an adventurer, among whom one was bond to a cussing Dragon, rescued whatever-damsel-Arya for fun and liked to make her run all over the country. She looked at the stars that night and found that they were on their way to Uru'baen. Apparently, they had staged their next operation there. And she supposed the mortals wanted her help. She was wary because they didn't seem trustable. Both had defiantly declared un-affinity towards the Varden and the Empire.

 _In most cases, the enemy of my enemy is a friend. These two raving lunatics on raving horses are notably an exception_ Arya mused.

…

"What is the plan?" Arya asked. She was nervous, because they were right in the middle of fricking Uru'barn, near the royal palace for the Void's sake.

"Sshhh!" Murtagh said sarcastically and loudly. He knew well enough by now that Eragon always casted silencing and privacy wards around their talks, however small. He could afford to be loud.

Murtagh said, taking on the air of a pompous git "Clearly, miss Arya since I have more experience dealing with Sir Silence hear, I'll interpret it in my language here. I guess the only other expert here is the Dragon but she's not in the vicinity now, for safety reasons, so let me explain" Murtagh said as he leaned against a tree "I have no fucking idea what he's about to do. Let's just watch and have fun. I'm sure that he'll tell us if he's planned anything serious."

…

Galbatorix had _finally_ discovered the Word that morning. He was basking in victory, knowing that all the Land would soon be under him. Even greater power was on its way into Galbatorix's hands, if his hunches were right. So he was stroking Shruiken's nostril ridge, which was as big as him. He purred, but that was more like a small earthquake in the palace.

 _I have succeeded. All the rest is just a matter of time._

And from there, he began imagining castles in the air, so as to speak. And soon the figurative castles inspired more rage in him till he tore them down and rebuilt them again, again and again. He was a god.

Galbatorix got up from his day dreaming and walked over to the place where he stored the dragon eggs. They were in a pretty high security safe but in an unlikely store room. Galbatorix got the safe, picked the two eggs and began talking to the in his usual sweet deep voice.

He told them of the warm, nice world outside, the benefits of serving under him, the wonderful future he'd planned for the people, the justice and the order that would be there, the freedom to roam, the blue skies and the like.

Galbatorix's thoughts wandered to his recent victory and the immense pride at his achievement welled up inside him. He thought, _Why should_ I _keep cajoling the brats in the eggs anymore? I've heard rumours that the stolen egg has already found a Rider. Fast, considering the years it had not picked a Rider in his tryouts._

 _If eggs can find their own fucking Rider for me to enslave later on, why are they being held here? I am a GOD, with capital G, capital O and capital D. What the hell?_ Galbatorix figured and threw the eggs out of a nearby balcony.

So what was Eragon's doing? Eragon had planted the thought in Galbatorix's mind to make him discover the Word much sooner than before. That was what he'd done.

Arya had grown tired of waiting in the city of the enemy and was beginning to suspect that perhaps Eragon and Murtagh wanted to sell Arya off to the Emperor.

"What exactly are we waiting for?" Murtagh pined, not being able to waste any more adventure time.

Eragon pointed his whole arm and his index finger at the falling eggs. They squinted, not being able to see what exactly they were. They thudded on the ground with no damage. Arya hollered, but nothing was heard in the neighbourhood. Eragon calmly picked up the eggs and motioned them to follow him. Needless to say, Arya was dumb with shock. Murtagh only mumbled _figures_.

The Palace grounds were very small and they escaped smoothly, or rather just walked slowly over the walls and rooftops. Uru'baen had many close packed buildings in the poor district.

By the next morning, they were a few leagues from the capital. Galbatorix had not thrown them without thinking and there were trackers on the eggs, casted with the help of the Word. Galbatorix was confident that nothing could fool him now. Eragon knew the Word well enough – or he couldn't have planted the thought in Galbatorix's mind, could he? – and bypassed the casted magic without alerting Galbatorix. Galby had yet to get creative with the Word – he had only just found it, after all.

Once they camped, Eragon handed the eggs to the prospective Riders. Their reactions were mixed. Arya was skeptic.

"Why do you think the eggs would choose us?"

Eragon had already decided on an excuse. He decided to continue the vision excuse saga – "It came in a vision"

Murtagh harrupmphed, clearly knowing that Eragon used that only as an excuse. Arya however, had heard of premonitions. She didn't know that Eragon never slept or she would have argued saying that no one had ever had a premonition when awake.

Their eggs weren't glowing like Saphira's had.

"Being the first of the new generation of Riders, I will dictate the Codex of our new Order" Eragon said and retrieved a small book from inside his robes.

 **The Codex of the Dragon Riders**

 _By Eragon and Saphira._

Murtagh took the book and flipped through the pages. Eragon gave Arya another copy.

Murtagh discussed the book with Arya, knowing that Eragon had exceeded his word limit for the day.

It was filled with swear words, bad handwriting presented in a very unreadable way. Sentences were never on a single line and often crisscrossed with other lines. There were thousands of spelling mistakes, grammatical abominations and meaning mismatches on every page. And there were certain 'illustrations' which curiously looked like mini versions of what Saphira would do if a inked stick was placed in her claws. And many pages were crossed out, there were many over-writings and several words were crossed out in each sentence.

"That was illuminating" Murtagh said to Arya. Nothing other than the impressive cover were understandable. The cover was red leather for Murtagh and Green for Arya.

Saphira waddled over, now about five times the size of a human. She had been busily sniffing her brothers' eggs. And she saw the book she and Eragon had authored were in the hands of Murtagh and Arya.

 _That book is a collection of wise guidelines for our new Order_ Saphira explained to Murtagh and Arya.

Arya, immediately honoured that the Dragon had spoken to them, said, _It must be that this book has some symbolic meaning than a literal one, is it not, o great one?_

 _What are you talking about? It's perfectly legible and I've illustrated some complex topics in creative and intricately plotted charts!_ Saphira said.

Arya didn't know what to say to that. Murtagh chose to ask _How to, uh, read this book?_

 _You don't know that motherfucker? It's fucking easy. You must burn it in a frigging fire, dumbass._

Arya wasn't yet familiar with Eragon's way of inactivity and asked him while Murtagh snorted, knowing that she wouldn't get a reply "What's this supposed to mean?"

The white hood turned towards her. He surprisingly spoke, earning a stare from Murtagh "Once you have your Gedwey Ignasia and your Dragon can breathe fire, burn it in Dragon fire."

Arya frowned. It should be a complicated piece of magic, yet she could detect no magic in the book. She figured that this stupid thing could wait.

"Where to now, Eragon?" Murtagh asked, knowing that he was most likely to get a reply now.

"Farthen Dur"

"Hell no. I thought you were not going to take up the side of a faction"

"No, we are not joining the Varden. We need to be there to meet a certain…person." Eragon said.

Arya frowned. _Not joining the Varden? Even now?_

"You two are being irresponsible children, not fighting against Galbatorix. I cannot force you and will not force you but don't you two feel the horrors committed by Galbatorix ought to be put to a stop?"

"Slavery comes from within, not from outside" Eragon cryptically said. Murtagh opened his book in a flurry of pages and pointed to Arya some squiggly lines "LOOK! It's written here in passage 5 of chapter one!"

Arya rolled her eyes at Murtagh's acting. Murtagh chuckled and closed the book. He had figured the purpose of the book. It was to make up the rules. There were no rules. Eragon had told them the standard ruse to be used when referring the book – it must be burned in Dragon Fire to be understood…

Eragon nodded to Murtagh, confirming his theory but creeping him out because it seemed the guy had read his mind again.

Arya could only scowl while Saphira did what she called snickering. _Humans are weird_.

"When are you planning to go there?" Arya asked.

Saphira replied this time _We will move at dawn. Once your eggs hatch, we'll stop for a two month hiatus while the younglings grow strong enough to fly for hours without tiring. Then, we shall meet…whoever he wished to see. Or perhaps even separate._

Arya nodded. It was a good plan if not for a small detail.

"Where will we be staying while our Dragons grow? It will be unsafe to grow them within the middle of the empire!"

Saphira said _In the middle of the Hardarac mountains._

That sounded even more stupid. They could go to the Varden and back before reaching that place. What kind of logic were they working on?

"Sorry?" Murtagh asked, clearly at the same conclusion.

 _It will be safe, fast and effective_ Saphira said.

The next morning, Eragon handed over his horse to Arya. She predictably refused, saying she could always run faster. Murtagh laughed and asked "Was the speed we used when coming to Uru'baen the fastest speed you can run comfortably in for hours?"

"Yes?" Arya said uncertainly.

"We shall be going at double that speed" Murtagh said, leaving Arya a bit confused. "How?" she asked.

"Magic" Eragon and Murtagh said at the same time.

"…"

…

The eggs took a week to hatch, by which they were almost near those mountains in the desert's centre. Eragon had augmented Saphira's speed and energy to keep up with the horses while he rode on her.

…

They reached the stupid mountains. They spent a couple of months there. Once Firnen and Thorn were capable of long flight hours, Arya was itching to go. She had been feeling guilty for not serving the Varden this long but now they should be ready to leave. Evading Galbatorix's capture was important, she'd reasoned this far. Firnen should be able to escape on his own in the least.

But Firnen could always grow more. She was done with ignoring her duties.

"So when are we leaving?" she asked Eragon for the gazillionth time this month. Eragon didn't even look up. Murtagh was lounging on a nearby hammock, dozing off, facing the oasis in the valley from his high point.

Eragon's activities had affected him too. Arya felt like Firnen was the only one who could understand her.

Murtagh said from his hammock, addressing Arya "I too am getting restless. Till now, I would've done nothing different anyway. I was satisfied. But now, I too am willing to move."

Thorn and Firnen were interestedly watching the conversation. They flew over a large area – they had no struggle with boredom. The humanoids had lived so far simply on the stuff Eragon had in his pocket dimension. He seemed to possess an entire farm in his Pockets.

Saphira came back from a mission at that moment drawing attention from everyone including Eragon though there was no visible proof of that.

She and Eragon seemed to exchange a brief private conversation regarding her recent outing. After that, Eragon simply got up and packed. Saphira said,

 _Put your belongings in those cloths you call bags. We need to move._

Arya warily eyed Murtagh sheathing Zar'roc by his side. She had no idea how they had gotten their hands on that monstrosity.

Arya had taught what she could to Murtagh about magic and fighting with swords. She didn't know why Eragon never listened to her. She had never seen him perform any magic. She could only assume that the horses were a lucky result of some seriously botched up magic. They carried no magic she was familiar with nor a spell she could see. His cryptic answers never amounted to anything except to Murtagh, who seemed to understand them somehow. But he too kept his mouth shut, whatever it was he understood.

It was still day, so they left on those fast horses, with Firnen and Thorn keeping pace from above. Arya and Eragon lent them their strength whenever the younglings grew tired.

Over another few weeks, they reached the Beors from an unpatrolled angle. He could sense every mind for some fifty miles around him and easily avoided all patrols. They stopped in a large cave in the side of a mountain. Eragon made a show of planning with the group.

Eragon said over their dinner "Arya, I guess you better go with Firnen by yourself to the Varden. I and Murtagh, being people who don't want our minds read, will take an alternative route into the Varden, do some business in there and get out. We will see you again once we've done our business."

Arya asked heatedly "How do you know of the procedures of the Varden?"

Eragon levelled a blank stare at her, as if asking _is that all you come up with?_

"I know" Eragon said and ended the meeting.

Murtagh added as an after note – "First a damsel elf" a glare from Arya "next my own personal dragon, after that a small vacation in an oasis. I wonder what's gonna happen next…"

Arya made sure she was not followed the next day when she went out with Firnen. They were close enough to Farthen Dur to reach it within a few days. She had been unnerved at how close Eragon had come without knowing the exact location and his knowledge of the Varden's secret procedures. She could only assume that Brom had told him a few things to warn him of the consequences he'd need to face when he joined the Varden. She wasn't going to assume too much.

As soon as Arya was gone with Firnen Eragon turned to Murtagh and said "You have the option of staying out here. What I will do is dangerous. Our lives will be at risk."

"Spare me the words. I come with you" Murtagh said.

Eragon turned to the red and the blue dragon and said to them, _Come exactly two days from now to the mountain I drew your attention to earlier. You should find a hole large enough to enter a few miles above the ground by the mountain side made for dragons especially. It won't be hard to spot. Stay low until then. You can hunt a few miles near our current location till then, if you are hungry._

Eragon immediately began his descent with Cadoc, Murtagh behind him on Tornac.

They went into a tunnel, Eragon's magic providing light. They emerged after half a day in the tunnel into a dark open space. "Tronjheim" Eragon announced.

"I was expecting more than this" Murtagh commented.

"The rea city is yet to show in our visual range. Just a mile."

"The mountain's inside must be huge" Murtagh said.

Eragon nodded. They did emerge into the city soon. They were in an unoccupied district. Eragon described it as the northwestern abandoned quarter. Tons of three or four storied buildings stood gathering dust. Murtagh whistled at the architecture. They were sturdy and could sell for millions of crowns each in the Empire if the dwarves decided to capitalize on their skill.

Eragon, as if reading his mind, said "Dwarves don't build anything like this anymore. They prefer playing and praying with their dirt, mud and stone." Murtagh, though still uncomfortable with his uncanny ability, had grown used to it a bit.

The next day Eragon handed Murtagh a scroll and a small sphere.

Eragon explained "This is a map of the city, enlargeable and shrinkable in scale. It shows all the people in the area you are in. It will help you avoid patrols. Keep an eye on the map. I will contact you via that sphere I gave you once I've done my job. You can see me do my work, but in case you get bored, you can go anywhere safely with these things. Beware, there are many spies of the Empire even in here. Do not meet any official. Do not interfere in my work"

"Uh…fine. Where are we going first?" asked Murtagh, seeing the various labelled places in the map.

"The place where Ajihad usually holds council."

Murtagh said "I don't trust you but the _plan_ seems okay" his voice taking a high pitch.

…

Arya had just finished eating. It was so better than the salted rodents Eragon always served. He always seemed to replenish his stock of rodents in the night when she slept, for he never seemed to run out of the damned stuff. She was loathe to eat meat, but since there really wasn't any other food except for some turnips, she had had no choice except to eat them only when she was too hungry.

She was called by some guards to appear before the Varden rulers. That was expected. She'd only given a brief version of the events on her arrival, unsure what to tell herself. But now she had a tale on her lips by rehearsal, to not reveal anything she was uncomfortable with.

So she came before them. Brom, Ajihad and Hrothgar. The twins stood nearby. The bodygaurds were stationed around them.

Arya was saying "…and so I was captured by Durza and put under a rare poison. I had a few visions of a boy. I thought of him as an illusion but some time later he-"

"He did nothing" a bodiless voice said, clearly recognizable as Eragon's by Brom and Arya.

"Who and where are you?" A bodyguard screamed.

"I am Eragon and I am behind the twins" Eragon said, appearing with an arm around each.

The twins jumped. They had felt nothing and couldn't even locate the source of the voice. Murtagh was somewhere just outside the room, under Eragon's magic cloaking.

"Who do you think you are?" Ajihad asked.

Eragon replied, "I am nobody, doing nothing" Eragon said lightly as he removed his hands from the Twins and walked towards Arya.

"I am here to make sure copyrighted information is not…abused" Eragon stated.

"Eragon, what are you doing here?" Brom asked, recognizing the white outfit and the belt.

Eragon gave him a blank stare. Brom was thinking _Who gave him the address of the Varden? Surely Arya hadn't…?_

Arya shook her head at Brom. She was able to guess what the Varden heads were thinking.

"How do you know of this place? And Brom, do you know this person?" Jormundur demanded.

"Your spies are easy to do in" Eragon stated.

"Impossible. Every spy of ours is sworn to protect everything about the Varden with their lives. Even if the Emperor himself breaks into their mind they will not be able to reveal the information…" Ajihad said.

Even Brom looked Ajihad cross eye at that. Eragon said, "The Twins have been feeding you shit, Ajihad"

The twins looked outraged "My Lord, this is no doubt an Assassin sent by the Empire!"

"Huh, double crossers" commented.

Ajihad had the impression that this white robed man was of the Empire. He calling the Twins double crossers…impossible. They had helped the Varden from the start, from his father's time! While it would be perfect to suspect them of treachery – they checked all the minds but none checked theirs; it was perfect to suspect them. But too perfect for Ajihad.

 _This is just a mind messing trick. An Assassin's psychological warfare._

"Shut up" Ajihad roared "Arrest him and put him in a cell"

Eragon just stood there, facing Ajihad with interest.

"When was the first time you met the twins?" Eragon asked.

Ajihad blinked, trying to remember involuntarily. He had some vague recollection. It was hard to remember first meetings with too familiar people who you wished to be friends with quickly.

"When? Fifteen years ago? Twenty? Did your father introduce them to you? Where? Tronjheim? Surda, in your clan circle?" Eragon pressed.

Ajihads face contorted and paled at the same time. The Twins, knowing that their plans were done for, made the run for it. They suddenly felt sluggish when they tried to move. Eragon had long ago ejected them with a poison. The moment before he'd made himself visible.

At the same moment, many officials fell in their offices. Not all Galbatorix's spies or the Twins' separate faction. They were all people of position and power. Ajihad himself felt choked.

"The Twins connected your life to their own, making you the metaphorical third twin. Triplet, if you will, but subordinate to them. Their death means yours." Eragon said and calmly watched Ajihad die. He had invented an excellent excuse for killing Ajihad.

Brom watched in calm surprise. He had met so many political situations that this was very mild in comparision. But this was rash of his son to do. He should have captured them or something. Did he think there were many people who could replace Ajihad's leadership?

Eragon looked at them in turn, nodding at Brom and Arya before calmly walking out. Jormundur hadn't swallowed his bullshit. He rushed outside to find nothing.

Everyone's brain finally whirred into the present.

 _WHAT IS THIS?_ Brom thought. _My own son walks in, assassinates three people, okay supposedly only two of our own and I let him! What happened?_

Arya also seemed only just recovered from some sort of daze that Eragon must have caused.

 _Eragon has joined the Empire or at least, gone rogue or started a personal struggle. Or perhaps he was after money._ All of them seemed ridiculous to Brom, except joining the Empire. The Emperor could have enslaved Eragon. _As for the Twins, we have no proof now. Again, he shouldn't have killed them. We should have extracted a confession._

"What do we do?" Hrothgar asked.

"I guess I'll have to reign as regent for the Varden till some suitable replacement is found. And find the…"Brom paused. Arya could sympathize "white robed killer. Capture him alive, not dead"

Arya knew that Eragon knew but didn't wish Brom to know.

…

"So are we done here?" Murtagh asked. He had been watching everything through the doorway, nicely hidden by Eragon's for some reason extremely good magic.

"No. We need to meet someone else. Here we are" Eragon said, stopping at a dwelling place.

He knocked on the door to reveal Angela the witch.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Customers. We wished to buy some goods. We heard that you had some stock"

"Who recommended you to me?" Angela asked suspiciously.

Eragon read the right name off Angela's mind.

Angela nodded uncertainly.

Solembum opened an eye and jolted from his usual sloth sleep. The man radiated so much sloth that it was impossible. He tentatively initiated mental contact, only to find a deep chasm instead of a proper mind. Out of the depths came _his_ voice. Solembum hissed at Eragon.

 _Why have you come here?_ Solembum asked.

" _To buy some weed"_ Eragon said aloud and mentally at the same time. Angela realized what happened and looked up surprised. It was as if fate had brought them. A recommendation + Solembum talked to him = fated in her mind.

Angela asked what weed he wanted quickly. He said some kind that healed some variety of poisons, both common and a few rare ones. She quickly handed it to him and asked, "Anything else? I usually offer to read the fate of anyone who Solembum talks to. Previously only two other people have talked to him. This is the real deal, you know, not some superficial stuff I do for money. Using Dragon bones" Angela said in one breath.

Eragon waited for some time, before saying "Okay"

Murtagh asked "Why is the cat warning me to avoid Eragon? And how does he communicate to me mentally though I've closed off my mind? Did my teacher teach me wrong defense or something? I thought I could block off others from my mind!"

"Your mind is perfectly defended. It's just Werecats and other special magical methods can send messages through minds without fuss. And since he talked to you, I'll do a reading for you too!" Angela added. She was incredibly excited and blown off her feet. TWO people Solembum talked to, both enigmas.

She was sitting with the bones in a jiffy. Eragon pushed Murtagh into the seat.

 _Great. Me, the test goat._ Murtagh thought.

"Alright. Manin! Wyrda! Hugin!" Angela said.

The bones became etched with many symbols.

"Fear. Anger" Angela read, pointing to two runes. "They are your enemies and your allies. They are incredibly entwined in your fate. It is not necessary to stop them, its impossible. But you should just know what you fear and are angry at, are never mutually exclusive"

"Know my fears and anger?"

Angela paused. She really could have said just those words to convey the meaning, true.

"Yes. This is the twisted blood circle. It stands for a circular version of time. It has many interpretations. Time loops, paradoxes, repetition, recurring events and history." Angela read, her brows coming together.

"The trisected concentric circles. Proficiency beyond imagination in one field" Angela said, surprised to even see that rune. She continued "Fire eel, the symbol of health and immunity to diseases" Angela pointed "encircles the Thunder Avian, the symbol of astral projection. You have extradimensional intervention in your fate, giving you an extended life."

Angela looked at several more glyphs and made a general observation "You are capable of discerning extremely small details due to your paternal heritage" and finally, Angela showed Murtagh the last rune she could understood "This is the last rune I understood. This stands for self-ancestry. Usually, it means you are the reborn soul of one of your ancestors. I don't know here though. It is too strong, too deep in your main runes to be in the standard interpretation."

Angela was already exhausted, but she nodded to Eragon.

She again said the words to activate the bones.

" _Manin! Wyrda! Hugin!"_

The bones rebooted and only one rune appeared on all the bones rolled.

"I don't recognize this rune" Angela said flatly. This was the weirdest divination she'd even done. Usually, bone casting took some energy off her. But this particular divination for the man in white robes had taken absolutely none.

The rune was a fairly large rune by bone rune standards for her set. It was a septagon, enclosing a cherry.

"Divinity" Eragon said, somehow seeming to understand the rune. Angela was shocked. She didn't say anything though.

"Where did you get the meaning for that rune?" Angela asked. These men interested her to no end.

 _I don't know. Just my regular notifications_ Eragon thought.

"From the place where all thoughts arise" Eragon said and stood up. He nodded to Murtagh. It was time to leave. Murtagh himself had checked the map when Angela was distracted and was under the same conclusion.

Eragon said, "If anyone comes asking about us, you can tell them any detail if you wish, except what was divined, of course" and walked out of the shop with Murtagh. She came running after them, screaming "HEY WAIT! Who the fuck are you two people, having such strange futures? Time loops, immunity and self-ancestry are an unstable, impossible combination. And what des DIVINITY ME-"

Angela stopped as she realized she was yelling at empty air.

…

"Are we done _now?_ Granted though, the last stop was entertaining." Murtagh had already guessed the next answer.

"This happens to be a nice area. We can destroy an army of Urgals. You up to it?"

"Hell yeah" Murtagh said. They had only now exited from Farthen Dur and were walking over the Dwarven roads.

"Cool. Get on Thorn. It's been exatly two days and they are on their way. I've contacted Saphira. They shall be here in a few minutes. I shall be dropping the disguise once they appear, so be ready for attacks. Once he comes, climb on him and watch the Urgals. You can use the map scroll. It works anywhere. Deploy your own tactics" Eragon said.

"What? _Now!_?" Murtagh asked "An Urgal invasion? What the hell man!"

"Commanded by a new Shade" Eragon informed.

Murtagh gulped but nodded. He would be safe on Dragon back. Thorn was the size of two or three rooms. "I can battle any way I want?" Murtagh asked.

"Get creative. Let nothing stop you" Murtagh felt kind of excited at Eragon's reply.

…

Eragon stood there, doing nothing as usual. The Urgals came towards the waterfall entrance in larger than before hordes. Mainly because he'd closed the tunnels in the extra day they had spent in Tronjheim. It would be too much for the Urgals. From what Eragon sensed, the Shade was at the dead back of the army.

Eragon looked and the thought of fighting didn't even cross his head. He was doing his idleness thing. Urgals started falling dead for no good reason. When enough Urgals died to block the one mile wide valley entrance, Eragon took his Arbalest, the only weapon he favoured. He loaded explosive heads into his bolts and fired two shots. There was no vibration. More Urgals fell from the insane amounts of radiation.

Murtagh was dropping rocks when he saw that the Urgals had several Kull ranks among them. Murtagh cast a basic spell he knew on them

 _Lexar_ Murtagh whispered, chanelling magic as Arya had instructed him.

A sudden bright light permanently blinded the Kulls, some even dying from the pain.

It took a drain on Murtagh's reserves but it was manageable. He was not there to kill but to deploy his creativity. While it sounded partially sick to him to kill or fun, this was an opportunity to apply some kinds of practices he couldn't apply elsewhere. He kept experimenting. Several arrows came in Thorn's way but Thorn was agile and nimble. Any arrow that injured his wings Murtagh healed immediately. So far only one had struck. Thorn had half his energy left and Murtagh just more than a quarter.

Trying to kill very few Urgals – it was not is fight, after all; if it was a matter of his survival Murtagh would be merciless but this wasn't, clearly – he tried to learn the maximum. But he ended killing several hundred anyway. The Varden were also fighting Urgals, but from within the mountain. Eragon had not accounted for some tunnels. He didn't want the Varden to stare at his actions.

Eragon climbed on to Saphira, taking off to find the Shade, informing Murtagh to come to his aid.

Their plan was just as before but Eragon knew as soon as he saw the Shade that this wouldn't be like what they'd done with Durza. The shade was characteristically un-unique – he/she had the same maroon hair eyes and that skin pulled over skull kind of head.

The Shade didn't even give an introduction or his name. He started firing dangerous magic Eragon and Saphira without preamble.

Eragon's magic managed defence well enough but all attacks on the Shade were useless. Murtagh for a moment had the advantage of surprise and a chance to stab the Shade from the back but the Shade was in some hyperactive mode and didn't even pause when he bashed Murtagh and Thorn with a single spell.

But Eragon took that moment to set in motion some complex physical thing. But the Shade was able to realize what he was doing. The Shade seemed familiar with it.

Eragon's turned on fire as one of the Shade's spells hit him. But Eragon had planned on taking that hit. He had found out the similarities between Durza's and the new Shade's mind and had plotted the next move of the Shade, countering the next attack of the Shade on Saphira with a specific spell to turn it back on the Shade. That moment, Eragon's will came to fight the Shade's will. A mental battle broke out between the Shade and Eragon. Both bodies froze, Eragon's on the ground and the Shade's standing on a rock.

Mental battle in this new world was something very real. It had its own sounds and sights. The Shade was a maroon storm and Eragon remained calm and idle, its eye. Even with Eragon doing nothing to help the situation, the eye slowly grew. The Shade didn't stop. The concept of giving up wasn't a part of a Shade's life and paradigm. Its world was different. Eragon surely and willingly won after a few minutes and in the last moment, the Shade killed all his slave Urgals before being wiped out from existence. Eragon went over and stabbed the dead body, releasing the beaten souls and capturing them as before in a Pocket dimension. This one glowed very dimly, though in the same maroon colour. The darkest colour of the red spectrum.

Eragon found himself humming an unknown song in an unknown language.

…

Nobody in the Varden really knew what to do. Whose side was Eragon on? Was their prime thought.

All tensions aside, the eElves had yet to know of Arya's living status. There was no doubt; only she could go for the mission to inform them. Arya was their new hope for fighting against Galbatorix. With two Dragon Riders gone rogue, the council decided that Arya was their best bet and initiated all political schemes concerning her. The humans didn't like it that the Dragon Rider had turned out as an elf. No one except the elite of the Varden knew of the rogue Dragon Riders – they had hid their Dragons well and never shown themselves in public.

"Arya, you are our only hope" Brom said. He was almost the only one to give her full support in the Varden. "It is good that you have become a Dragon Rider. It is a pity that you could only give me a brief outline of what happened with Eragon and Murtagh, but I understand that there is some sort of spell on you, preventing you from telling us what happened. We shall keep an eye out for trouble. I have taught you all the Dragon Rider secrets I'm to teach you. The…" Brom glanced around, checking his surroundings. Eragon was pretty inventive, they could only guess. But reports stated that they were seen exiting the battle scene after the Urgals attac- were massacred. Brom had no idea how Eragon had managed all that. Arya was unable to even tell Brom if the Shade that had captured her was dead or alive!

Brom returned from his track and continued "…the mourning sage will see that you learn the rest. We are really glad that such a proficient user of gramarye was chosen. Regardless, good luck on your journey" Brom said and concluded with an elven traditional greeting. Arya pressed her fingers against her lips and did the thing. Then she left.

Firnen could fly really well, even if she herself said so. Saphira seemed to share some aspect of Eragon in flying – she hardly moved a muscle unless necessary in flight. Firnen was more partial towards a delightful experience.

Arya walked through the Dwarven towns, feeling the great responsibility finally settle on her. _She_ had been chosen to uphold the values of her people and all in all, destroy the oathbreaker. It had brought tears to her eyes quite often, she was honoured beyond comprehension. She remembered Eragon's handbook that he had given her. It was so against what she needed to do as a Rider.

 _Make up our own rules? On instinct?_ Arya thought the whole idea was comical and buffoon-ic. She would be a real Rider. It was expected after all, they were only kids compared to her century of life.

 _But some of the things he does…is scary. Where did he learn to do them? I am now sure that the fast horses were no accident, considering his prowess at battle, slaughtering an army in two hours flat. What is most probable is that Eragon had an unknown mentor. Perhaps even a Dragon rider of old who survived the Fall…_

Brom had confessed to being surprised to Eragon's skill as well. He had not seen any such sign when he'd spent time with Eragon, except some prodigal learning. And then Brom smacked his face. It was so obvious – he had learnt them all beforehand. Arya and Brom agreed on one point – Eragon could have never learned them all by himself.

…

Arya had taken to running across the land, because she had not her horse. Not being hindered by weak humans, she ran. Firnen flew above her.

She reached Ellesmera in two weeks, mainly because the forest wasn't rampage-able, unlike the river banks which sustained no damage from her trampling. She didn't want to unduly harm the forest with her strength.

She secured permission from Gilderien the Wise to enter the capital and went straight to the court, where the Drottning fussed over her in the royal way. She was thankful that no human knew of this. They treated their royal people much worse fuss than the elves treated theirs.

Arya recited everything she could without Eragon's damn spell stopping her. The queen nodded, as if she knew all of this already. That produced alarm in Arya's head.

"You knew I was alive?" asked Arya. She had expected that her mother would be furious or something to know that she could have scried her up well before or something "Aren't you angry?"

"Well, I was angry my daughter, when the Riders came and informed me. Especially when the mourning sage informed me that he had known of your living too. I was properly corrected in attitude and knowledge then itself by the Crippled Sage. I am only glad that you have come"

Arya's head was close to exploding when she asked "RIDERS?"

"Why, I thought you were acquainted with them, my child, unless they lied about it. But they spoke in our tongue, so it is impossible. I can only assume that you are less than pleased to meet fellow Riders of your Order?"

Arya thought fast. How did they get in?

The Queen seemed to read her thoughts from her face and said "They are talented, fearfully so. They bribed Gilderion the Wise to get into the city. Caused an outrage it did but we cannot scream about the past, we quickly realized. So we just acknowledged their sharp minds and have granted them the usual honours we grant to Riders"

Arya was speechless. "How did they enter the forest then? That should not be possible either!"

"They found some loophole, though not obvious at first glance. They are very observant and well-learned. At least, the Leader is, the partner of Dragon Saphira. Brom seems to have done a fine job, Oromis has said"

Arya said quietly "Brom didn't teach Eragon anything. Eragon could use gramarye…or whatever he does proficiently well before he was taught by Brom. Brom and I suspect that he had tutelage under some Elite magician whom we don't know or thought dead"

The elves calmly took in this. Eragon and Murtagh had already fed them a lot of bullshit backup story in the Ancient Language. Eragon had not demonstrated any of his passive abilities in front of them either. In the Elves' minds, it had already been registered that the new Riders were just pathetic humans, a bit witty granted. An opinion of a young elf and an honorary human friend wasn't going to really move them.

"Arya, you have the option of staying with the new Riders and training with them, for you are a Dragon Rider now. Or you could stay as Drottningu in the Royal household. We know that Dragon Riders of Old never chose sides, but the new Order's Leader has explained that such impartiality is not feasible in the future. We are very impressed by his wisdom. He must have indeed be trained by someone else, Brom's teaching style doesn't shine through him."

Arya was about to hit her head against the pillars. Eragon and Murtagh had outmanoeuvred her in this move. She gathered that _they_ had come two days earlier than her. That was enough time for them to manipulate the nobles into a strong belief. First impressions were strong in elven minds, even more so than in human ones.

"I will not be staying with them. I have found their lifestyle very unpleasant"

"Oh-ho?" an elf asked, eager for more information about the Riders that they could use. Arya was eager to put her own machinations against them for beating her "and what are they?"

"Eragon sits around doing nothing all day and calls it intense training. Murtagh daydreams and tries to get them into reality. They are unconcerned about the War, are very irresponsible. Expected of young people, but nonetheless disheartening for those who shoulder the greatest responsibility of the land on their shoulders"

The elves whispered to each other, this was new news.

Arya was dismissed a bit more formally by a concerned mother and she hit the bed and slept for some time in her waking dreams.

The next day, she went to the Crags of Telnair to begin her training. While she was proficient in magic, there were secrets of the Dragon Rider Order that only Oromis could teach her.

She was half-relieved when she found that the other Riders hadn't come to train with her. She didn't know what she would've done if they had come. But that made her wonder what they were doing.

…

"Rhunon" Eragon said, hands in his pockets.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"A new Dragon Rider" Ergon said lightly.

"Oh. How can I make you go away? I don't forge weapons, if that's what you want"

"No no no. No. I don't want a weapon. Just a talk" Eragon said. Rhunon motioned him towards a seat, so Eragon slowly walked near her and sat down on the seat.

"What did you want? I am also not inclined to share my knowledge of forging to another so that they may forge a weapon"

"That will be unnecessary. I am here on Dragon Rider business, to settle some issues…" Eragon said, earning a look from Rhunon.

"Well, out with it. I haven't got all day"

Eragon stood up and got a bit closer to her and whispered, looking around as if he was afraid of someone else hearing them "I have found a deposit of brightsteel. Are you interested in a deal?"

Rhunon wanted to snort. Dragon Rider _business,_ indeed.

"Funny, yes. Wherever you came across it, I doubt I could've not reached. But you have found it and I am a willing buyer. Swords aren't the only thing I do with it, you know? I am pleased that you know this much of my weapons"

Eragon still had his hands in his pockets. Eragon had confirmed his suspicions from Rhunon's complicated mind. Rhunon had been forging weapons that stole magic off Dragon Riders each time they cast a spell in the vicinity of a weapon made by Rhunon's hands. Eragon had discovered this in his old life, when trying to see why Brisingr always fired up when he used that spell. It hadn't taken him long, with the help of all the Endunari while he had been still a Rider, to see that his sword was rigged with leaching spells. Hidden cunningly, but there they were. It also helped to know that brightsteel had only one magical property – to make information transfer across vast distances feasible. Rhunon had been stealing Dragon Rider secrets for a long period to grab power for herself. Eragon suspected that Rhunon was the reason why the Elves had gone into isolation again shortly after Nasuada's rule. Rhunon could steal any secret if the weapon was in the vicinity when it was discussed. Rhunon had stolen the Word last time, directly from Galbatorix. Eragon had no doubt that Arya, though queen and protector of the elves, stood no chance against that hag in the past. It was a small technicality Rhunon had not accounted for when she had been creating the sword for Eragon that gave the whole concealed spell away. It was perfectly concealed in Zar'roc and the other swords, however. All the Eldunari combined under him couldn't check the Spell in the other swords they had in their possession.

Currently however, the spell in Zar'roc was plain as day to Eragon and he had done nothing to see it. There was so much in nothing.

Eragon had come undetected and invisible into Rhunon's forge. If she had been paying attention, she would've seen him appear out of thin air. Eragon turned himself into untraceable mode again and walked out calmly, not even bothering to check whether his magic had erased all signs of his doing.


	3. Missile

"It is indeed not good that two Dragon Riders are lost to our cause"Oromis said to Arya.

Arya was finally relieved that at least someone listened to her. She had impressed upon him the dangers of the pair of idiots and had made him to see what they were. She even managed to indirectly point out her inability to speak of the spell that Eragon had managed to cast on her.

Oromis had taken the issue seriously. Ever more so since Rhunon had suddenly died. Eragon and Murtagh had come clean, confessing to no crime. They even said it in the Ancient Langauge. Something that didn't sit well with Oromis. If they hadn't, and the elves hadn't either – it was obvious, which Elf would kill so obviously – that meant someone else was in. Eragon and Murtagh had also said they had let no one else or even revealed the secret of how to enter the forest to someone else.

Oromis could only think of one person skilled enough to do such things – the Emperor himself. It was quite possible that Galbatorix had finally come out of his palace. One or even two Riders were nothing but three well equipped Riders would even throw any Elder a big challenge nad hence Galbatorix might have felt threatened. Oromis had fallen to just two Forsaken, hadn't he? While Oromis had no doubt that all those Eldunari would make certain that Galbatorix won, there was still time for serious damage if three Riders were left to run free. Oromis hadn't informed Arya of his suspicions however. He didn't want others to panic without cause.

"It is a sorrow indeed that Dragons, in their wisdom chose children to perform a task beyond their grasps" Arya said.

Glaedr said to them _I am not convinced of their 'cause'. Why are they after political power and money? It's ridiculous, not befitting a Rider of the Order._

"Be that as it may Glaedr, they have impressed the power-crazy nobles, signalling that they are game in the field of politics. They have the tendency of shrewd merchants to boot. Their goal is unclear to us. We cannot discount them as children. They are planning something"

Arya said quietly "Eragon's…ability"

"What of Eragon's ability? Which ability?"

Arya used the common language to convey her message "Magic"

"Gramarye?" Oromis asked "What about it?"

Arya shook her head and repeated, "Magic"

Oromis seemed to understand what she was saying – she couldn't talk about it either. Eragon wanted that hidden. Oromis would've to investigate it himself.

Arya nodded relieved when Oromis assured her that he would investigate the matter.

"What do you suspect? Anything else can you deliver to me?" Oromis asked.

"Do not be exposed. He can kill without…warning" Arya said, finding a word in the language that even she failed to remember properly. His spell messed with her mind so royally.

Oromis also noticed it. He hadn't met the new Riders one-on-one yet, thankfully.

 _If anyone decides to harm you, I will rip them apart, needless to say_ Glaedr said to Oromis.

…..

"You're crippled" Eragon greeted Oromis. He raised an eyebrow at the new Rider, surprised.

"You're very observant. How could you see it?"

"Ask instead why you don't" Eragon replied crisply.

Oromis paused, reflecting on the question seriously. "It is not the nature of spells to be seen easily. Only their effects can be seen, is it not so?"

"No" Eragon said in the Ancient Language, surprising Oromis again.

"That's…new to me. You are interesting, Eragon-finariel"

"You are very dumb, Oromis-fucker"

Oromis himself was only lightly unsettled at the disrespect – after Galbatorix's oath breaking, everything had been really shallow in the 'feeling insulted' department. But Glaedr roared in the distance so loudly that Oromis could only imagine the temporary deafness of those near him.

"And why are you suddenly so insulting?" Oromis asked, interested in the reason behind the insult.

"To see how high Glaedr's temper was" Eraagon said flatly.

Oromis chuckled, despite himself while Glaedr roared once again. He could feel his partner's fury at being tested like a youngling.

While Oromis was distracted, a spell hit Oromis with such force that he slammed into the wall. Glaedr roared once again. Oromis belatedly realized that Glaedr was roaring not from insults to Oromis but from pain of a spell casted by the other Rider – Murtagh.

Oromis himself was similarly in pain now. He saw Eragon standing over him calmly. Oromis had brought Naegling with him and Eragon was examining it. And after that, he placed it beside Oromis again.

When the pain faded, Oromis cautiously looked up at the new Rider, who was now facing a window. Glaedr also had nothing to say or think. Both of their ailments had vanished in some painful minutes.

"What I did is not free. I expect the Belt of Beloth the Wise as payment" Eragon said.

Oromis didn't say anything and only walked towards his home. Glaedr was astonished at his healed leg, but didn't say anything either.

…

"Tell me, in the least, how you know of the belt?" Oromis asked.

"Ask no questions of your elders motherfucker" Eragon said.

 _You are very insolent youngling! I will rip you apart if you dare think yourself greater than Oromis again or talk to him in such a crude manner. Just because you healed us doesn't mean we are your slaves!_

Eragon was suddenly on top of Glaedr's throat, holding a sickly green blade at his throat. Oromis's eyes widened at the blade, as well as Arya's. Glaedr couldn't see it himself, but Oromis shared the image with him.

" _Chrysanthemum_ " Ormois whispered in wonder. A lost Dauthdaert.

"Hand over the belt and we are done" Eragon said.

Oromis threw the belt carefully to Eragon. As soon as he received the belt, he slaughtered Glaedr.

Oromis stood dumbly, his pain preventing him from moving for a brief moment.

"I do not tolerate disrespect" Eragon said calmly to Glaedr's dying body.

 _You are a crooked little-_

But Glaedr decided to eject his Eldunari with his last bodily energy instead then. He could kill the upstart later.

Oromis went up and picked the big golden crystal before Eragon did anything with it. Judging by the speed Eragon had moved, he could've picked up Glader's Eldunari if he had wanted to. Or perhaps he didn't know of the Eldunari's value.

"Your foolishness will be put to an end" Ormois said quietly.

"If you do not wish to be an Indlvarn I can change that" Eragon said, clearly dispelling any doubt in Oromis's mind that Eragon didn't know about the Eldunari's significance. If one knew about Indlvarn, then it meant one knew of the Eldunari's significance.

Glaedr took a few days to come around. The elves were horrified as to who had done the unspeakable atrocity – they believed the Dragon dead as Oromis would not reveal the secret of Eldunari to any non-Rider. Eragon was going through the library, researching something with Murtagh, taking notes and such when Arya finally caught them. They had been pretty evasive and slippery, despite this being her home city.

"What do you think prevents us from exposing you as a murderer?" Arya asked softly.

Murtagh looked up, interest in his face. Arya could smack her face at the expression. Could it be that Eragon had been so lazy as to not even tell his partner of that which transpired?

"You should not take these things so heavily. Death is but another adventure" Eragon grinned for the first time Arya saw. His teeth were so white and solid strong that she was sure he used spells to clean them. She herself preferred a brush to do the job or not at all.

"What are you grinning about?" Murtagh asked.

"It's nothing" Eragon replied.

Murtagh shrugged, _Whatever_. He asked Arya "What did he do?"

"He killed Galedr" Murtagh whistled and asked Eragon "That green blade you retrieved from the dumpster was that powerful?"

Arya couldn't believe what she was hearing "A dumpster?"

"A nasty one at that, covered in all sorts of shit – pig, dog, human, cow-"

Arya shuddered, not wishing to know how they had retrieved it, she remembered what she had come for and said, "The Queen awaits you"

Eragon put all his work on Murtagh's head and went to the palace hall.

"What is this I hear about you...killing the Great One?"

"I did not kill Glaedr" Eragon said coolly. The Queen seemed dissatisfied, however and pressed "Did you harm him in any other way?"

"No, I didn't harm Glaedr. I am not the one responsible for his demise or whatever it is that has befallen him. Nor is Saphira, Murtagh or Thorn, to my knowledge" Eragon said, immediately clearing all his lies away with the Word.

The Queen was satisfied with his speech and turned to Oromis, clearly displeased, "Oromis, what is this, then? How did you come to believe Eragon here is the slayer of your partnerofbodyandmind?"

"Eragon killed Glaedr's physical body and disposed of his body while I witnessed it" Oromis confirmed.

"I did not kill Glaedr's physical body and dispose it when Oromis was witnessing it." Eragon said, clearly contradicting Oromis.

The Queen said "It is obvious then. Someone, disguising himself as Eragon, captured a Dauthdaert and slayed Glaedr to pose blame on him. Saphira, do you testify to his statement, for confirmation?"

 _I wasn't watching Eragon. I was with Firnen and Thorn, hunting. I know of no murder committed by Eragon_ Saphira said.

"That is…unfortunate, but there is little doubt. Your word alone is enough and because you share his mind, there is more than enough evidence here. Thank you"

The Queen quickly apologized to Eragon for bringing him there under crime allegations and acquitted him of the charges against him.

Eragon privately said to Oromis _You are one hell of a fool. Any more disrespect and you will ironically not be there to regret it._

 _You better watch your mouth, murderer. I know now that you can lie in the Ancient Language. Do you think I cannot expose you with a simple experiment? Think again._

Eragon turned to Oromis and walked up to him and said aloud "Disrespect me again and as the Leader of the Riders I will make sure you don't live to regret it" earning many angered whispers and shocked glares from the gathered nobles, including the Queen who just hid her reaction a bit better.

"This is hardly disrespect, Eragon" the Queen said " _if_ even you commanded any respect. You are displaying an unseen arrogance in your threat at well-intentioned security concerns" she said softly, her tone icy.

"If you do not respect me as the leader of the new Dragon Riders, you will regret it too. Start respecting me or you will, _seriously_ , regret it" Eragon said. Oromis was relieved, he had at least drawn out some of Eragon's other side to the public. _Then why am I feeling this foreboding feeling?_ Oromis thought.

"You presume too much! I do not believe you are a fit leader, for your anger, arrogance and yearning for respect is not just" one noble elf roared.

The elf's eyes widened, clutching his throat while Eragon didn't even turn towards him. He fell down and Eragon said "I find your lack of faith disturbing" to the dying body.

"Oh boy, his lack of faith seems have killed him. How do you people dispose your dead?" Eragon asked the council.

Pandemonium would've broken out but these were centuries old Elves who didn't do such things. This was hardly the first assassination in the court.

Many elves stood ready with magic at their fingertips, ready to obey their queen. They hadn't seen his lips move and only those were visible under the hood. Some thought Eragon was the killer while the others, who didn't know of wordless magic, turned around and checked the room for unknown assassins. He had outright confessed to not being a murderer just then. Perhaps the real killer was near, they thought. But what he said wasn't registering well with them.

"Did you kill him?" Islanzadi asked, her voice low enough to be considered a man's or even an animal's.

"I didn't kill him. Bitch please."

"Eragon that's enough. Drop the act. Lying in the Ancient Language isn't totally impossible, we should know" Oromis said.

"Did you just give me an order?" Eragon asked, his vice imitating Islanzadi's easily.

Islanzadi advanced to give the Rider a slap, but as soon she hit the hood, her fingers broke off her palm.

"I will consider that as a lack of faith in me" Eragon said and moved towards her. She began to back away and ready a spell.

Oromis was quicker. He cast some serious magic at Eragon, knowing that he was going for a kill.

It was countered the instant he released it, creating a backlash at Oromis from the energy he wished to release but didn't. He fell down, unconscious. Glaedr, overcome by anger, managed to do some magic the Dragons were famous for. What surprised Glaedr very much was that encountered resistance. A lot of it. Even though he tried to plough through it, he felt his anger fading, his momentum decreasing till he returned to normal.

Eragon said, "Will I be challenged again?" Eragon said, over Islanzadi's head. He stared for a few more seconds till she fell down from exhaustion against fighting him in a mental battle. Eragon then addressed the silent council "Do not fear, I have decided to be merciful and therefore she lives. I am unlike Galbatorix, who kills or tortures. I don't even punish people. I just make my point." A few elves nonetheless decided to use gramarye against him for causing this much trouble but they were brushed aside easily.

Eragon picked the crown off Islanzadi's head and threw it out of sight. He then proceeded to break the throne with his hand chops. Eragon sat on the pile of wooden rubbish and brought his own cape out of a Pocket and draped it on himself. It was the same dull white.

"Well, looks like you people have a new temporary ruler!" Eragon said.

Arya was waiting in the library, talking with Murtagh and figuring out what they were researching, wondering what was happening inside the royal court.

….

Murtagh took leave from the Elven Nation and went to a place Eragon had recommended for him, citing that life wasn't going to be fun around him anymore. Murtagh nodded and left, surprised that things had come to an end this quickly. So he went to the place which Eragon said was really fun. Eragon might not see like the fun-type, but it was just that very few activities passed his high bar for the title for 'fun'. So when Eragon did move, it was huge fun.

Murtagh arrived before a broken elven tower. A small patch of vegetables grew where a garden could've been. "Anybody here?" Murtagh yelled.

An old man emerged from a door on the base, looking agitated at an interruption.

 _Who the hell knows this address to come and bother me? I just hope he will not publicize my residence. It is hard to find a civilized but quiet place…_

Tenga took Murtagh inside and fed him some soup. Murtagh asked the old senile man, "What do you do?"

His grumpiness vanished and suddenly he answered very jovially "Search for the Answer"

"What Answer?"

"Like savages we have lived, without civility! I shall remove all that!"

Murtagh spoke the Word and asked whether it was the Answer.

Tenga looked shocked but said "Yes and No. You spoke the Word. Not the Answer. The Answer is not utterable, not worded. But yes, what you said is the worded equivalent of a wordless thing. What have you done to improve the Land with your low quality version of the Answer?" Tenga asked.

Murtagh shook his head, saying "Not interested in the welfare of the Land. Apparently, this Word is going to become so public in the future that it will be useless, according to…a plan." Murtagh suddenly knew what he should do, why Eragon had sent him here "What do you know about self-ancestry?"

"SELF ANCESTRY! Absolutely everything! It is a subject most intricately connected with the Answer! Along with Time loops and Shadeslaying it is the three fundamental clues to the Answer! My, you have researched your Answer well. Come, you are no ordinary man! To have found so much at such a young age, you must be talented indeed. Let's discuss some more…"

….

Eragon ordered again, "Again" to Islanzadi, who looked beyond disgusted. She hesitantly thrust her pelvis up and down on another elf's organ of reproduction.

"What are you all waiting for? Continue till you have finished fucking each other" Eragon roared. All over the hall, feverish motions took place. Seriously, the elves had a low population and Eragon was currently invested in increasing it. He himself wasn't doing it – being very lazy and a human – but he didn't spare the others. He had given them all pregnancy spells and baby care tutorials.

The way the faces spoke of the indignity and anger and shame, Eragon almost thought they didn't want to survive as a race.

…

Roran screamed at the people gathered from Therinsford and Carvahall, Sloan tied to a pole behind him "This is a traitor! He is the reason why we have taxes so high. Sloan betrayed us and these are the letters! He has been taking loans that never reached him from Uru'baen. He was the one who killed Ismira, his own wife, to keep the debts a secret. He has been selling people into slavery to quench debts, on top of that! And if these weren't enough, he's called guards into Palancar valley, to sell us all!"

The others were watching with their mouths open at the daggers thrown at them. Sure, they'd been expecting some feud of sorts between Sloan and Roran over Katrina, but nothing this big. Roran had been talking for over half an hour and at last had summarized his speech. At the end of which they knew that life wasn't going to be the same again. Their own had caused the suffering, not some evil Emperor for them to blame. Everyone was ashamed because someone else wasn't the cause of their suffering. Roran had argued that they didn't even know whether this so called King even existed. If he did, it was probably Galbatorix XXVII or something, because surely no one lived that long. The villagers had sunk into Roran's speech and were unable to come out. What were they going to do?

Over a few days they came to a decision. The only officials they ever saw was the tax collectors. It was better if they started their own ruling. Anonymously, Roran was made head. But there were only so many tools in the villages. It was then that he came to a decision. There were other villages and towns, equally untouched by Galbatorix and the Empire. They could ally with each other, perhaps?

…..

The alliance sucked, no one even responded to the ambassadors, believing that the valley was doomed to extinction by soldiers. The people of Palancar valley had only one thought in their mind after then. To flee.

Under Roran's remarkable fleeing expertise, most of the people fled into the mountains and built basic traps to evade pursuit in the future. All of the Palancar Valley people fled west into the mountains, where they eventually found the presence of Urgals. They found their alliance, despite losing a few men in initial tensions.

…..

Galbatorix was sitting on his throne, reading through political reports of the last forty years, just to be sure when he made his moves. He was just waiting for Shruiken to make up his mind whether to don armour or not. It was taking him some weeks to do that, so Galbatorix was using his time to make his rule absolute. He had already seen that Uru'baen was completely under him. He finally had people who could never cause a single problem for him. Galbatorix was happy, for the first time in his life. Since his first dragon had died, in fact.

"Sir, the city of Narda has been taken. We have received news from pigeon sir" a butler appeared and said.

"The Varden acting up that far in the north? Unusual…"

"Not the Varden sir. Urgals. And some humans"

"Interesting, but I'm more interested in killing the Varden first. Why am I explaining this to you, you wonder? IT MEANS KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! I'll ask information on this again when I need it. Until then, just file reports"

The butler bowed and left.

…..

Narda had been surprisingly favourable, once negotiations were held. They had not even killed the guards that much…

The Urgals were intimately familiar with the moutains and knew ore locations. The Nardans themselves had good blacksmiths. Roran married the skills together, earning some more leadership. Narda had been in the middle of a rebellion itself – because they too thought themselves far from Galbatorix's control. Once they had aided the rebellion, Roran was given authority, along with the Urgal leader.

Word spread among the Urgals, just as it did among the humans along the west coast. The rumour was of the Northern Federation.

…..

Brom couldn't leave the Varden without a leader. Nasuada showed promise but lacked power. Despite Brom backing her up, none of the councillors saw any reason to obey her without question. It was tiring Brom to an extent that he didn't even remember how he got into the room with Hrothgar.

"Oy Brom, wake up. Don't turn into automatic mode on me, you fool!" Horthgar said, after repeated attempts at waking Brom up. He finally woke up, a bit disoriented.

"I've got a solution to our problems" Hrothgar said quietly "I have finally devised a mechanism by which we can trick people into giving us a lot of power and stripping the overly debating council of its assumed authority. Here's how." And Hrothgar said his plan. And to Brom, it seemed brilliant. He detected a flaw here and there, but that was it – flaws once seen could be rectified.

…..

"The Varden is going through an administrative change. We shall let, not some clans and its leaders choose the leader to lead them against the atrocities of the Empire, but the people themselves!"

The crowds were astonished at what they heard – even the dwarves were going to be merged into the Varden, but it wasn't nobility alone anymore who decided who was to wield power. Even the common man would be playing a part in the choosing. It was unheard of. Rights.

And so Hrothgar and Brom founded democracy. The Election Commission, which oversaw the election, was all just made of Hrothgar's secret friends. They invented this thing – the newspaper, also run by Hrothgar's friends in secret. But the information and proof presented to the public was that the heads of both departments were completely honest common men and women. Anybody was allowed to visit the offices with an appointment.

Even as the upcoming elections came, Hrothgar and Brom used most of the Varden's treasury to buy votes for their party, the Might of Algaesia. Most of the other dwarven clans decided to form their own separate parties but were thrashed aside because they lacked the unity and strength of the MoA party. Soon, the people put their votes. The votes cast for MoA was only a measly 45% of the total voter population – not enough for majority but with some tinkering with the numbers and illegit voting, they managed to give themselves a score of 66% - enough to pass any law by themselves. Because they were out of funds for the most part, the MoA party decided to show results and action instead of the usual grind that was economy strengthening.

Brom and Hrothgar sat in a new room, President and Premier of the combined Dwarven Nation and The Varden.

"Your idea sure worked out, old friend"

"Yes, democracy. A form of government where people are tricked into thinking they have power. I read this nice book, where it stated that the people must be made stupider to be ruled better. That's where I got the idea."

A knock sounded on the door, signifying that they had to attend the meeting of the Parliament.

"We're coming" Brom said and they both went to meet the 600 member parliament in full attendance. They were going to approve the constitution today.

….

In less than a year, everything had been settled and their economy was back in the ranges of stability. They were using magic to supplement many vital industries, often teaching the magicians just what they needed to do. It was pretty amazing that Galbatorix had still not attacked them. Relationships with Surda were better than before and Surda itself picked up pace and threw out its monarchy in favour of the new rage, democracy. Az rak Anhuin was brought to its knees for not obeying the commands of the majority and its resources were plundered, adding a needed quick boost. The other parties were slowly drained of their cash and eventually Surda fell into the hands of the MoA too.

…

"Sire, the Varden and Surda have coalesced into one nation"

"Why are you bothering me again? Didn't I say I was in the middle of something? Haven't I told you before not to bring me any petty news?"

"Only that of the Northern Feeration, sir"

"Well, you can file away all report from now. I have bigger fish to fry" Galbatorix said. He had discovered something remarkable – wordless magic. When Galbatorix had controlled his magicians every instant, his magicians had actually rebelled against him. Galbatorix had been astonished to see that magic could occur without the Ancient Language. Most horrifying of all was that it was devastating. Galbatorix had spent enough years in research to know the principles behind magic to figure out that the thought of all thoughts must exist too, a wordless equivalent of the Answer. The research had been mindboggling. He had thrown aside some earlier documents in his research, some hints the Eldunari gave him and an occasional insight because they didn't lead him to the Word. But now, he was re-reading them, seeing more than before….

But controlling just three cities occupied all his attention. It was all he could do to not let the cities be destroyed on some accident. Name slavery still worked to an extent and hence it was taking up so much of his time to round up every imbecile who suddenly seemed capable of casting magic.

….

The Northern Federation had expanded to Teirm and Ceunon. Tons of trees were being felled to build an armada that could defeat Kausta. The Urgals of the southern Spine were mobilizing forces to takeover Kausta for the Federation. The northern federation had so many jobs that almost no one was unemployed. Though the pay was poor, no one starved any longer because there was always fish to go back to.

Even when Kausta was conquered, Galbatorix didn't rise. This only strengthened the people further. So far, they had not even interacted with the core cities of the Empire, where Galbatorix was still very strong. But the Federation ended its conquest, focusing on increasing its economy rapidly. With three coastal cities in their control, they had a phenomena they nicknamed an economic boom. But their defences were below average. And most of all, the thought of freedom rippled along the land, crying its own cries.

….

"The Shades were the enemies of the Grey folk. They fought a long and tedious war to control the language of magic. There was no language to magic before and they were trying to create one. The Shades, who knew that if magic was enslaved, all life they could torture would die, fought against the aliens to this land, who just wanted to conquer the energy of this world for themselves and their Empire. In one battle cum ritual that lasted a few months, no one really died, they were matched equal and there were few causalities. Only at the end, the Shades decided to abandon all hope and corrupt the ritual, securing a continent wide wave of destruction. The grey folk and the shades ceased to be a major species and others began to fill in the void. Magic remained wordless but could be worded too. You, boy, are a descendant of the Shade line. You have the characteristic heterochromatic eyes to prove that."

After hearing Tenga's tale, Murtagh had been sceptic. But he didn't have much time to ponder that.

Tenga had pushed Murtagh into a time machine – apparently, a basic device of people who looked for the Answer – that had planted him right in the middle of a huge stalemate between the Shades and the Grey Folk. It was because Murtagh, under the effects of a rape by a Shade woman, that he led the attack against the Ritual and made a huge blunder in the Ritual causing it to go rogue. Murtagh, the only survivor of both races – except his unknown child – only then recovered partially from the effects of the physical and mental rape. Murtagh had been a Shade for a few years before he had cooled down. Shades hadn't been insane all along – it just took a few centuries to turn them sane; but their cruelty was still trademark. Murtagh eventually found himself in the company of elves and worked as a normal elf among the yet mortal creatures.

When they sailed for Algaesia across the perilous seas, Murtagh was among them. He started the whole fight between the elves and the dragons on his own. He quickly gathered followers and he became fearfully known as Dragonbane. Murtagh was honoured with nobility status during that time and he built himself a mansion and a villa. Just before the war ended, Murtagh was drawn by the original reason he'd been sent into the past by Tenga – to find the Answer. After centuries of killing and hurting, he found what he had been looking for all long quite unexpectedly. He was hunting down one of the most powerful of all Dragons, the Dragon of Prophecy when he was attacked mentally again by the great one. The visions of prophecy finally eroded the grip of Shades from Murtagh's mind and he stopped killing Dragons. Murtagh was respected enough to have his own Dauthdaert – Rose. Murtagh went into healing mode for a few years, before returning. He found only that the first Eragon had founded the Dragon Riders.

Murtagh's return caused quite a stir among the Elves and the Dragons, as he had not been accounted for in the pact. It was assumed that he had died with the Dragon of Prophecy. Tenga sent Thorn back to him sometime around then, ending the war for real. Though all the corruption had been removed from his mind, Murtagh at heart was still a Shade. It was not in the atrocities committed lay a Shade's path – it was in feral activity, the predator nature that it lay. And Murtagh had permanently imbued a few things. Including the Answer.

Murtagh didn't join the Order, preferring instead to be wild. Thorn died one day accidentally from Rose. Murtagh then chose to join the Order, because he was out of entertainment. There he was given a Dragon again but he didn't last long because he was too weak. When he demanded another Dragon, the council refused him. He killed them all, gathered a band of people along the process and began to rule Algaesia. He always let people do the thing themselves, never bothering to do anything but the harshest of necessary work. He didn't raise a finger when Surda broke free. He didn't quell the Varden. He didn't care about the Federation. He idled his time, working on the Word and connecting it to the Answer. Even as Murtagh ruled the Empire, he felt a small resistance – of the original Galbatorix, fighting against him. Murtagh erased the snot from existence as he waited patiently for the right time.

Eragon stood before him one day, his mannerisms proving remarkably similar to the Grey Folk. But Murtagh was past the war.

"Why do I get the feeling that you know what happened to me?" Murtagh asked Eragon.

"I know what happened to you, because I too replaced someone else" Eragon revealed the face under the hood, shocking Murtagh.

"How the fuck? You are also Tenga!" Murtagh asked, his old self and new one combining finally.

"Magic, my friend. Magic never wants to be enslaved. Magic has always run free. It runs free now and will always. It can change the history, present and future to suit itself. That's why"

"Then how come Galbatorix existed in the first place?"

"It is because I was doing something back then. Now, I do nothing. Galbatorix doesn't exist now and as something separate from everything else, magic is free."

"You've been doing nothing for some time now but last I knew it was only Galbatorix on the throne" Murtagh said "I even felt him against me, trying weakly to fight against me for existence. But I prevailed"

"Friend, there are levels to doing nothing. When I turned seventeen recently, all of my magic broke loose and it crafted and modified the world to suit itself. I was but an agent riding on top of the wave."

"I am not what I was before" Murtagh said. Though very much like the Grey Folk, Eragon seemed a bit deeper – as if Murtagh couldn't care less that he had killed so many on sight before.

Eragon looked at him simply, his face changing back to his original teenage face "From today, reality is altered. This world is not like any other, where things are just culmination of events. No, this world ruled by magic is the essence of un-limitedness. Today, a new sun shines on us, literally. Nobody knows it but us, but once, people had fates, lives to live and were basically slaves to greater mechanisms than theirs. From today, each lives on a completely subjective experience, manifesting their own will to create their own worlds. Though everything overlaps as individual pieces, nothing will ever be separate" Eragon explained.

"So…this is a truly magical world now? So what?" Murtagh asked.

Eragon laughed and said, "It means all of us are now gods"

Eragon didn't explain it any further. And Murtagh didn't have the inclination to take the subject up again.

A/N: So this ends. Thank you for reading and reviewing.


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